As We Know It
by Skyelah
Summary: "I'm saying it doesn't matter if you're scared, Steve. Everyone gets scared. Everyone feels alone. What matters is that we have each other." The team's latest threat hits close to home for the newest member, and soon everyone must face their fears. Rated for violence, language, suggestive themes, toaster abuse, exciting underwear, Darcy and Tony. All Avengers feature.
1. The Great Escape

**Title: _(Life) As We Know It_**

_ by Skyelah_

**Summary: **_""I'm saying it doesn't matter if you're scared, Steve. Everyone gets scared. Everyone feels alone. What matters is that we have each other." The team's latest threat hits close to home for the newest member, and soon everyone must face their fears._

**Genres: **_Drama_,_ Humor, Romance, Action, Sci- Fi... yeah, a little of everything_

**Rated for:**_ Violence, language, suggestive themes, toaster abuse, exciting underwear, Darcy and Tony.  
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They never turned the heat on at night. Even in the middle of November, when the morning dew was beginning to frost on the grass and one could see ones breath hovering in the air in front of them, the interior was kept close to freezing. The guards were fine; they had thick, woollen jackets and heavy lined boots to keep warm as they made their rounds, or else huddled before the flickering light of the television in their lounge. But she was in nothing but worn jeans and an old, oversized men's t-shirt, locked within a non-insulated plastic room. She clearly wasn't worth the heat.

Charlize shivered against the scratchy polyester sheets, blowing warm breath into her hands in a poor attempt to stop her digits from freezing and falling off. Already, they were an uncomfortable shade of purplish-gray, and they felt stiff and swollen. That wasn't good; she wanted full mobility. She would try to steal a pair of socks, or maybe some mittens off of one of the guards before she left.

Charlize had been planning her escape since the day she had arrived, nearly 12 years before. Half of her life had been spent huddled within the bland plastic walls, reading archaic novels repeatedly and plotting the murders of each and every one of her captors in great detail. She would start with the guards, the ones who had sat by idly as she was prodded and poked, cut open and sewn shut again, shocked and violated in every possible way. Sharp, jagged metal held to each throat, slicing through skin and flesh and sinew, right through the corroded artery, crimson seeping silently from the wounds, dripping from mouths as they filled with the sticky wet substance, oozing to form slippery red puddles on the floor. The doctors and scientists would follow, and she would impale them on their own dissecting needles, drawing the very lifeblood from their veins and draining them dry. See how they liked it. Charlize wasn't a violent person by nature, in fact she hated the thought, but 12 years in a cage could change a person.

An echoing bang on the clear walls reverberated through the room, and Charlize's eyes shot upwards. The fat guard; a large, sweat-stained man easily 100 pounds overweight, so his flesh drooped out the side of his uniform and practically enveloped all of his extremities, stood there, flashing his light into Charlize's now dilated pupils. He looked bored and slightly annoyed – the guards had drawn straws to see who would be the one to check up on the prisoner, and he had come up short. There was a game on television in half an hour that he didn't want to miss, and why should he? It wasn't like the girl could go anywhere. A foot thick of plastic surrounded her and prevented her from using anything on the outside as a weapon, and she wasn't strong enough for that.

Charlize snapped her eyes shut again, concentrating only on her breathing. The room disappeared around her; the white sheets, the desk, the piles of novels, even the heavy exhalations of the guard outside. She could no longer feel the scratch of polyester underneath her; instead she was alone in nowhere inside her mind. She cast her mind outward, searching for what would be her escape. Charlize had practiced this for years now, honing her abilities until she was able to breach the walls of plastic with little to no effort. All five senses stretched for a sign; she tasted the sweet, sharp taste of copper; she felt the soft cool touch of wire; she heard the clanking ring of piping; she smelled the sharp scent of oil and rust. The strange sixth sense, the one given to her by the sadists in the lab, sent her mind away from itself. Charlize almost smiled, the threat of amusement playing at her lips. His zipper.

He looked up and the prisoner was smiling at him. She never smiled. Now she was sitting up on her cot, eyes closed, lids flickering in a dream state, and she smiled at him. Smugly; as if she knew something he didn't. It was unnerving, and his hand twitched, moving a fraction closer to the walkie talkie stationed on his hip. His fingers itched to press the call button.

The zipper, nestled snugly amongst the folds of flab in the hollow of his throat, shot upward suddenly, piercing his skin and disappearing into the soft tissues of his neck. The pain was unimaginable and he coughed, gobs of congealed blood spattered the plastic walls as he sputtered. Lifeblood trickled generously from the wound, soaking into the fabric of his uniform sweater until it bled the same. His eyes grew wide, pupils dilated as he struggled for breath around a throat full of the hot sticky metallic liquid that flooded over his tongue. A gargling rattle was issued from his mouth and he slumped forward, tracing a line of bloody crimson down the wall of her cage.

Charlize swung her toes, numb as they were with the cold, off the bed and onto the frigid white floor. She forced her breathing to remain steady as she concentrated once more, this time on the miniscule flecks of gold embedded in the magnetized strip of his key card. It was a strain, controlling so little with such distance between, and beads of sweat formed above her brows. The key card shivered against the rapidly growing pallor of his corpse before snapping itself free of the dead man's belt. Charlize sighed with relief and fatigue as the key card inserted itself in the slot next to the door of her plastic prison. Red flashed green, and a pneumatic hiss announced that the door had slid open, accompanied with a rush of metal and blood scented air.

The layout of the building was simple; one long hallway, extending straight on either side of her former prison, which was the central hub, so to speak. At one end, the 'medical centre' as they called it. The room where they did their experiments. Her birthplace; the laboratory where years of research and failed test subjects finally produced Charlize in all her glory. At the other end of the hall was the guards' station and main entrance. The walls were entirely made of concrete, thick, dense and unyielding, but underneath it all Charlize could feel the copper piping that shaped the building around her. Stupid of them not to think of that, but then again, Charlize was more than they ever could have calculated. She was free of their cage, and soon she would be free of them entirely.

At night, no one stayed as late as the guards. The last stragglers and workaholics had left hours ago, stumbling over their Doc Martens and mumbling complicated formulas under their coffee scented breath. Only the night watchmen remained; three men, huddled around the evening news, waiting for the game to come on. The fourth lay dead on the floor outside of the prisoner's cage, his life seeping out of the puncture wound in his neck. The guards were so absorbed in the live footage of the latest assault of New York that they didn't hear the soft footsteps as Charlize approached them from behind.

"C'mon, Stark, kick his ass," one guard muttered angrily as Charlize crept forward, inserting herself into the small niche between the door frame and the wall inside the guard's station. A single light bulb hung precariously above the television, its light the only thing illuminating the room apart from the flickering glow of the screen. Charlize cast her sixth sense towards the tiny fragments of metal that made up the bulb's filaments. The wires burst with the sudden charge and fiery sparks rained down from the ceiling. They settled on the guards, sizzling and charring away exposed flesh. The room was filled with the smell of cooking meat.

"What the fuck!" one guard cursed, leaping up from his wooden chair to slap at the sparks burning against his skin. He hissed as the hot material burned his hands. His companions were on their feet as well, yelping and shrieking and flailing wildly. One struck the television with his arm and it fell to the floor with an almighty crash. The first guard jumped back at the sound, pushing his spine against the door frame right next to where Charlize lay in wait. Her hand darted out, unnoticed by any one of the squealing guards, and she hooked her finger around the man's gun. It slid from its holster, settling uncomfortably into the palm of her hand.

Charlize lifted the gun with a slightly trembling hand and her finger twitched on the trigger. A shattering blast rang out, ringing in Charlize's ears, and the guard nearest to the door dropped suddenly to his knees, probing the bloody hole in his chest with surprised fingers. His fellows rushed forward to his aide, and another shot rent through the air. Blood spewed from another guard's mouth, spattering Charlize's face and hair with gore as the bullet split a hole in his side. He stumbled forward, bloodied fingers groping the front of her shirt as he plunged to join his comrade, gasping for life on the floor.

The third guard howled like an enraged and wounded animal. His hand reached to his side for his own gun. He was quick to draw, but not quick enough. Charlize's hand trembled noticeably as she fired yet again, tearing through the muscles of his arm. His hand went slack and the gun clattered uselessly to the floor, but the man pressed forward, his eyes filled with hot tears of rage. Another gunshot, this time Charlize used both hands to hold the gun steady, and his face, including those angered eyes, blew apart with all the force of a bullet. Crimson red stained Charlize's shirt front, mixing in with the blood of the other two guards, and her clothing dripped with liquid gray brain matter. Shards of bone had wedged themselves in the most unlikely places in the room, and some of the organic shrapnel had blown back to pierce her limbs. She didn't remove it. She was shaking, her body was racked with tremors, but she still held the gun out, pointed to where a man's head had been only moments before.

She had to do it, Charlize reminded herself. They would never have let her leave. She could never walk out while they were still alive. She wouldn't make it out alive if she didn't leave. The thoughts spun around and around in her head, and Charlize tried to believe them, but the thought of blood and brains and death overwhelmed her. She doubled over and vomited violently on what was left of the man's carcass. The smell and taste of bile masked the metallic scent of blood and the stench of rotting flesh. Charlize wiped her mouth clean on her already stained shirt. She didn't have time for remorse. She would later, once she was out. No doubt she would cry herself to sleep that night, if only she made it out safely. Someone would have heard four gunshots.

Charlize fought back her reflex to gag once more as she picked around pools of vomit and blood to search through the pockets of the man without a face. No wallet, no ID. He was a ghost; he didn't really exist to anyone. Just like her. No one would miss him, she tried to assure herself, but her hands still trembled, and her ears still sounded with the gunshots. She shifted to the next guard, and was met with the same lack of identity. It seemed that everyone who worked there was a ghost. Even the man who had made her; Charlize had known him since she was an infant, and yet somehow she had never known his mad scientist persona.

The stench rising from the floor was overwhelming, and as Charlize stood she stumbled forward a little bit, reeling from the foul odour that permeated the room. Her bare toes slipped slightly in a puddle of liquid – Charlize didn't want to know what – and she stubbed her foot against the fallen television. Charlize glanced down. This television was almost completely flat, more advanced than anything the Charlize had seen before. Of course, she had been in captivity for almost half of her life. The glass screen was cracked with the impact of falling from the table it had been on, but the screen still flickered, showing pictures that moved erratically about the screen. Explosions of dust and rubble and glass shook the camera.

"_-in New York City, its chaos." _A pleasant female voice narrated, sounding professionally controlled and yet still slightly panicky as the camera rocked again with the force of another explosion. This one sent a person flying backwards into a brick wall. Charlize caught a flash of red, white and blue before the stone crumbled over the figure. "_The Avengers team has been called in response, and we have confirmed reports that Iron Man, Hawkeye and Captain America are on scene,"_ the woman continued. A small figure of gold and red hovered into view, the shape of a man encased in a metal body. Iron fists dug into the pile of rubble and withdrew a man garbed in a very patriotic uniform. The Iron Man brushed the other man off before turning back to the source of the explosions. The very patriotic Captain America followed, stooping to pick up a large metal shield that he flung, Frisbee style, towards his target.

"_We can only hope that this motley band of heroes will be able to save us from this latest tragedy." _There were more shots of explosions, and Iron Man fired blasts of light from his hands towards a small figure cloaked in silver that crouched on the ground in the midst of all the explosions. Charlize watched for another moment, intrigued. The Avengers… heroes… Beings with abilities beyond the ordinary, like her. People who could help her with her gifts, and who could help her gain her revenge. Charlize had never dreamed of what she would do after her escape. She figured she would always be a freak, marginalized by society, deemed 'dangerous' and 'unruly'. It had never occurred to her that she could be a hero.

She was dangerous and unruly. A freak; a genetic experiment, locked away from the outside world for its own safety. Gone was the little girl who used to sit outside and watch the stars at night, marvelling at how they had been shaped by another's hand. That same girl now feared those stars, because how could the creator of something so beautiful ever forgive her for what she had just done? No, Charlize wasn't a hero. But she could try to be one.

Charlize ducked out of the guard's station quickly. She could hear the swell of police sirens outside, but they still sounded far off. The entrance doors hissed open without giving her any trouble at all, and Charlize tasted her first breath of free air in nearly 12 years. It was cold and unfiltered and it tasted real. The sky was dark, tinged with lighter gray along the horizon where the sun was setting. A stretch of woods extended before her, stretching out for God knows how long. Charlize walked towards the unfamiliar woods, feeling the darkness of the trees enveloping her in a comforting embrace that promised freedom. The sirens rang out again, closer this time, and Charlize broke in to a run, her bare feet pounding on the cold, damp forest floor. She was going to New York.

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_Still a little tentative about posting this one, but honestly I'm just so excited to write it, so I just couldn't wait. Next chapter, the Avengers battle it out against a new (and admittedly hilarious) villain. There is a plot to all of this._

**_Please review! Love y'all!_**


	2. Steve is Concussed

_Updated like a week earlier than I had planned in honor of the AVENGERS DVD release today!_

_Also, it's my birthday!...  
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_If that isn't fate, I don't know what is..._

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"C'mon, Capsicle, get off your ass." Somewhere above him, Tony Stark was smirking. "I know you're a senior citizen and all, but we're kind of in the middle of an epic fight scene."

Steve groaned and rolled on to his feet. Bits of rubble tumbled down from his shoulders as he rose, and he was fairly certain that his uniform was covered in plaster. Great. He'd be washing all day tomorrow. SHIELD really needed to make his uniforms out of some materials that were actually machine washable; dry cleaning could be expensive, and Steve would rather have all of his equipment washed by hand than have to pay a stranger to do the same. "We're getting nowhere with this guy," Steve said, stating the obvious fact.

"You're telling me." With his mask on, it was impossible to tell if Tony was being sarcastic or not. He usually was. "I'm throwing everything I've got at this guy, and it can't get past the shield he's placed around himself. Who knew sonic energy repulsors could be such a pain in the ass, right?"

"You're probably going to add some to the Mark VIII when we get back, aren't you?" Steve almost smirked knowingly at the self-acclaimed billionaire playboy philanthropist, who shrugged.

"Maybe. Not denying it would make me even more badass than I already am." Tony stretched out a metal gauntlet to brush the plaster off of Steve's shoulder. "Love to stay and chat, Gramps, but there's a world needs saving." With a blast of hot air and flame from his metallic boots, Tony turned mid-air and shot off towards where the fight was at its thickest. Steve sighed, reaching down in to the rubble next to him to hoist his vibranium shield onto his arm before following Tony back into the fray.

The ground shook slightly underfoot as Steve ran, full tilt, towards 42nd street. Pieces of cement flew past his head and he ducked to avoid them as the villain calling himself 'Sonic Scream' detonated sound grenade after sound grenade, launching them wildly in all directions in his attempt to cause as much destruction as he could to occupy the Avengers while he, presumably, robbed the Bank. Every single window made of glass within a two block radius had been reduced to a fine powder that crunched under the feet of Captain America as he ran. He slipped the shield off of his arm, taking careful aim at the figure cloaked in silver in the centre of the street before hurling it at his head. Just feet away from its target, the shield met an invisible resistance of sound and clattered uselessly to the pavement.

"Is this the best you've got?" Sonic Scream taunted loudly, screaming to be heard over the constant wailing of his shield. "I expected a little more of a challenge from Earth's 'Mightiest Heroes'," he sneered mockingly. An arrow almost pierced the wall of sound before deflecting back, and through his ear piece Steve could hear Clint cursing. Tony raised both hands in his Iron Man suit and fired blasts from the repulsors in each palm. Sonic Scream flinched a little, but the energy fizzled out before it could reach him. Tony fired again, this time he converted the energy flow to his chest piece, and the resulting blast caused a shudder to run through the air, jarring Steve's teeth. He forced his jaws together to prevent him from accidentally chomping down on his tongue.

This time, Sonic Scream stood tall – relatively tall, actually, as he couldn't be more than five foot 10, not including the bushy afro of curly brown hair that, as Tony has stated, made it look as though their latest adversary had 'pubes' growing from his head. The energy blast almost touched his skin, in fact the shiny material of Sonic Scream's too tight uniform shrivelled a little at the heat in a way that was highly unappealing, but the repulsor blast couldn't get past his shield far enough to harm him.

"Ha! You see! Your weapons are no match for me!" Sonic Scream boasted, practically dancing where he stood. His silver uniform – reflective shirt, pants, and boots – shone brightly in the fading sunlight. Strapped to his chest was a complex looking piece of machinery; the source of his shield. He drew his sound grenades from what looked like a high tech fanny pack around his waistband.

"Is this guy for fucking real?" Clint muttered into his mouth piece as he sighted along the length of another arrow. He was perched on a rooftop about a block away from the scene. "Geez, the bastard's almost wetting himself with excitement."

"Mom probably let him out of the basement for the first time in years," Tony's voice sounded slightly tinny through the mic. "Guy decides to rob a bank, dressed like a fucking spaceman. To me, this is just screaming 'Mommy issues'." Clint sniggered.

"Men, focus," Steve demanded sternly, always the responsible one. Where was Natasha when he needed her? Of course, SHIELD had sent her away on some top secret mission just before the city was attacked by a lunatic in silver spandex. Not to mention that Thor was off planet – off dimension, really – visiting Loki on Asgard. That left Steve and Banner to babysit the other two, and Banner had his own, big _green_ problem to deal with. "What's our plan of attack?"

"I have a plan," Tony input, and Steve sighed in anticipation. "Attack!"

"That was funny the first five times, Tony," Steve practically groaned as he rolled and ducked behind the back tires of a silver Honda Civic that had the misfortune to be parked right next to the scene of the battle. Miraculously, it was still intact. "Now it's starting to piss me off."

"Ouch, Cap, that was harsh, coming from you!" Tony said with exaggerated hurt in his voice. "Is 'piss' even a curse word?" Tony was probably wearing his best shit-eating grin underneath the stoic face of his Iron Man mask. "I think its close enough, what about you, Clint?"

"Coming from Steve? That's about the equivalent of you or I saying c-"

"Enough!" Steve barked angrily. Tony actually jumped a little bit in his suit; rising another foot into the air in his surprise and Clint's arrow fell from between his fingers as he raised his eyebrows. "If you guys are going to nothing but stand there looking pretty and cracking jokes, I'll take this guy out myself!"

"Did he just say that we looked pretty?" Tony mumbled to Clint, who grunted non-commitally into his mic as he drew the arrow back to his cheekbone. Steve ignored them, standing up from behind the Honda Civic and striding with purpose towards where Sonic Scream stood in his 'spaceman' suit. The villain stopped his dancing to strike what he clearly seemed to think was an impressive pose in the middle of the street.

"Does the mighty Captain America come to challenge the undefeatable Sonic Scream?" he challenged loudly. Steve ignored him, focusing wholly on where his shield lay on the ground. "Dare you think you can defy me?" Tony snorted in Steve's earpiece.

"Who writes for this guy, seriously? He sounds like every lame comic book super villain that's ever existed and been defeated." Clint coughed loudly, choking back his laughter. No need for Tony's ego to get any bigger, knowing he could make the master assassin laugh. "He probably sits in his mom's basement and reads comic books, when he's not planning bank robberies. Just look at how paste-y his skin is. Two words buddy, and they are 'tanning booth'."

Steve rolled his eyes behind his mask. Tony and Clint were some of the most annoying people that he could have on the mission. Clint, at least, had the training and the professionalism to shut up every once in a while. Bringing Tony along was just begging for snide, sarcastic commentary running the entire time. Steve was now only a few feet away from Sonic Scream, and dangerously close to passing through the shield that protected him from their weapons. He stepped forward with one foot, and was met with a sudden resistance, like he was attempting to walk through really thick pudding. His step slowed and almost halted in the air, but Steve kept pushing.

"It's no use, Captain," Sonic Scream boasted, but underneath the bravado he almost sounded worried. "No thing can pass through my shield." Steve's head moved into the shield, and his ears were filled with a sudden ringing that was both uncomfortable and dizzying at the same time. It sent vibrations along his jaw bone and up and down his entire skeleton; Steve literally shook as he struggled through.

"No projectiles, right?" Steve grinned wickedly through gritted teeth, and the air of security fell from Sonic Scream. "You didn't count on someone being brave or stupid enough to face you head on." Steve stooped, pushing hard with all of his serum-given strength against the resistance that he was met with. His fingers enclosed around the handle of his shield, and he felt himself steady slightly as the vibranium took in the impact of the vibrating sound around him. "And only my friends are allowed to call me Captain." Steve lunged forward, swinging his shield in a high arc towards the head of Sonic Scream, aiming for the metal instrument strapped around his chest.

Everything seemed to happen slowly for Steve, suspended as he was in the midst of Sonic Scream's shield, but for Tony and Clint watching, the ensuing chaos moved rather quickly. Sonic Scream shrieked loudly, digging furiously in to his fanny pack and whipping out yet another sound grenade. Steve wasn't prepared for the sudden assault, and suspended as he was, he couldn't move quickly enough to raise his shield to take the full impact of the blast. The explosion rang loudly in Steve's ears and his brain felt as though it had been turned into a mushy pulp. The blast flung him backwards several feet into the hood of the Honda Civic, which crumpled under the force of his weight – so much for remaining unscathed. Steve slid down the front of the car, landing in a heap on top of a pile of powdery glass.

"Shit!" Tony swore loudly, and Clint's hissing curses echoed his sentiment. "Captain? Cap, you okay?"

"Tony," Steve mumbled incoherently, tossing his head back to look for his teammates. "Tony, wherrrre are yoou? Thersh voices 'n my ears, but I ca'n see yoou," he slurred, his head flopping to his shoulder in confusion.

"Oh, fucking fantastic," Tony breathed. He heard a hiss as another arrow whizzed by his head towards the Sonic Scream. "Steve's drunk, and we're toast. Banner, you there?" Tony asked from inside his helmet, transmitting to the SHIELD hellicarrier that was stationed somewhere above the battle scene.

"Yeah, Tony, I'm here," the scientist sounded calm and collected as he answered, his voice coming through clearly in Tony' helmet. He was probably in the SHIELD labs, analyzing whatever data had been collected so far on Sonic Scream's device. No doubt Darcy Lewis was with him, hovering and listening to Tony's every word. Tony wondered why the two of them didn't just admit their feelings for each other and have sex already. It wasn't really all that complicated, and they both wanted to; Tony could see it in their eyes. Tony loved Bruce as a science bro and all, but the dude needed to get laid like nobody's business, and Darcy seemed like the perfect gal for the job. Tony debated confronting Bruce on the issue when he got back, but Bruce was talking at him again. "What can I do for you?"

"Steve's out for the count. Took a direct hit from a sound grenade, probably concussed. Point is, he's not gonna be much help any time soon." Tony laid it all out for Bruce. "Clint isn't doing shit-" Tony heard a hiss of protest in his earpiece, "- sorry, Hawk-ass, but it's true. Mommy Issues isn't exactly intimidated by your medieval skills. I can't land a hit on the bastard either. Steve came close, but he wasn't strong or invincible enough to get through the shield. As much as I hate to admit it," Tony sighed dramatically, "we need your help."

"Sorry, no can do," Bruce disagreed cheerfully. Tony stopped for a moment, using his repulsors to hover himself away from Sonic Scream for a minute while he argued with his best buddy.

"Jesus, Bruce, why not!" Tony struggled to keep the panic out of his normally sarcastic tone. "We're a little desperate out here!"

"It's easy for you guys, isn't it?" Bruce changed the topic suddenly. "You step on a suitcase, or press a button, and you're all suited up. Steve just changes into his get up. Thor wears his on a day to day bases; he never puts that hammer down. Clint and Natasha… you know, I can honestly say I can't recall a time where Natasha wasn't running around in her cat suit."

"Your point, Bruce," Tony snapped irately at Dr. Banner. Bruce chuckled, finally having pissed off Tony Stark for a change.

"It's not that easy for me, now, is it? This is my last pair of pants, Tony, and probably my favourite. Every time you guys screw up a mission and have to call in the Other Guy, I lose another pair of pants." One could hear the smug grin in Bruce's taunting.

"Bruce, I seriously hope that you're just fucking with me right now."

"And that's only the half of it!" Tony sighed; now was really not the best time for one of Bruce's rants. "Everyone else gets nice stuff, don't they? Like vases and flat screens and art. I don't get any of that stuff, because it's too damn breakable, right Tony? I don't get a flat screen – not that I'd watch that stuff, but it would be nice to say that I have one. And it's all the Other Guy's fault, and I end up paying the price"

"For fucks sake, Bruce!" Tony yelled in exasperation. "I'll buy you new pants! Hell, I'll buy you a hundred pairs of pants, in any colour you want! I'll even get you the flat screen if you're into that shit! Just get your giant green ass down here! We-," Tony couldn't believe he was admitting it, but Bruce would never cooperate unless he did, "- we need you."

Bruce laughed softly, and Tony could hear someone – Darcy – giggling in the background. "There, was that so hard?"

"Yes," Tony grumbled, only prompting further laughter from Bruce.

"The big guy will be down in a few," Bruce promised before the communication link between them was cut off. Tony cursed quietly into his helmet.

"Sir, there appears to be a news reel filming you," JARVIS's cool, clear accent interrupted Tony's stream of imaginative curses. Tony turned and there was indeed a camera man and a female field reporter standing a little ways down the street; far enough that Sonic Scream hadn't noticed them yet, but inching closer slowly. Tony sighed. He hated reporters. They were almost as bad as the paparazzi; always pushing for a story, sticking their noses in where they didn't belong. And now they were standing in the middle of a battle zone in search of a story, not only putting their own lives at risk, but distracting him from stopping the real bad guy, because he had to protect their nosy asses. Then again… there were plenty of reporters in the world… these two probably wouldn't be missed.

Of course, if he didn't save the civilians, Fury and the rest of SHIELD would be on his ass. He didn't want Fury on his ass; for one, he didn't swing that way. SHIELD he could deal with, but Pepper would be angry. Pepper was never any fun when she was angry. And it was Tony's new life mission – aside from saving the world on occasion – to avoid making his girlfriend angry. Or disappointed. Some might find that easy, but for Tony, it was a full time job. So, with another loud sigh he twisted in his suit and flew towards the reporting duo. "Clint, keep Mommy Issues occupied; I have to save civilians." He heard a grunt in reply; Clint was probably lining up another shot already.

Tony flew straight towards the camera man and his accompanying reporter. They were currently zoomed in on Sonic Scream in all of is spandex-clad glory, and didn't notice Tony as he came to a hover over their heads. "Excuse me," he called down, his voice distorted from inside the Iron Man suit. "I'm going to have to ask you to leave. For your own safety."

"Iron Man!" the woman shouted ecstatically. _No shit, _Tony's inner monologue chimed in snidely, but he kept his mouth shut. The press would never learn; his suit wasn't made of iron, it was gold-titanium alloy, but since when did the media care about getting their facts straight? Dumbasses, the lot of them. "Can you comment on how the battle is going?" Unbelievably, the woman had the audacity to shove her microphone upwards to where Tony was hovering.

Definitely a dumb ass, this one. They were in the middle of a battle zone, and she wanted to play 20 questions with Iron Man? Where the hell were all of the news stations recruiting from these days? Preschool? And did she really think that those shoes matched her skirt? Inside his helmet, Tony bit his lip to save himself from answering her question with a sarcastic snipe. The glowing metallic eyes stared her down impassively. She waited impatiently, but Tony was saved the trouble of answering when, with an incredibly loud growl, Hulk came smashing down from the sky, crushing a new crater into the asphalt of the street behind Tony. The reporter blanched at the sight of the hulking green monster, and suddenly she couldn't move her ridiculous heels fast enough as she toddled away from the scene, camera man in tow. Tony almost sighed in his relief.

"Good timing, big guy," he said, turning round to face the Hulk. Hulk snorted, breathing heavily as he lumbered forward towards Tony. "Wrong way, Hulk, buddy," Tony said calmly, pointing. "See the shiny silver man over there? Smash him." Hulk grinned.

"Hulk smash!" He stomped in the direction of Sonic Scream.

"As articulate as ever," Tony mumbled. "Clint, sweetheart, pop some popcorn, will ya? This is going to get interesting really fast, and I'd hate to miss out on any of it." Tony launched himself towards Clint's rooftop, where he knew the archer had the best vantage point to watch the fight that would inevitably ensue.

Hulk stalked forward to where puny silver man stood in the middle of the street. Sonic Scream was still glancing around wildly, looking for Iron Man, who had disappeared from his view. His gaze fell on an enormous wall of green, and he raised his eyes slowly up from the Hulk's chest towards the small, angry emerald eyes that glared at him beneath furrowed black brows. "Oh," he squeaked.

"Sound man hurt Hulk's ears," Hulk growled angrily, shaking his head at the noise. He stretched out one massive green fist, and brought it down hard on Sonic Scream's shield. There was a brief moment of resistance, during which time Sonic Scream almost began dancing and cheering again. But the energy gave way at Hulk's massive strength, and the cheers rising from his chest were cut off as he was suddenly caught in a choking grasp. The metal device strapped to his chest snapped and sparked painfully under the pressure, but Hulk ignored the fiery sparks that settled in his toughened skin. There was a sharp crack, and another, as Sonic Scream's ribs cracked one at a time. Hulk's fist grew tighter and Sonic Scream fund himself unable to breathe.

"Truce?" he choked out, but it fell upon deaf ears.

"Hey, big guy. You've scared him enough. Set him down." Tony sounded assertive and reassuring at the same time, and he lifted his face mask to look Hulk straight in the eye as he hovered down level to his head. Behind Tony, Clint swung from a lamp post, flipping over the bar near the top a few times before dramatically launching himself into the air and landing on the ground. Tony made note to tease Clint about it later. "Set him down," he repeated, not breaking his eye contact with the Hulk.

Hulk snorted once in an annoyed protest but complied, placing the now limp Sonic Scream none too gently on the pavement. "Good boy," Tony commended him. "You did good, Hulk. Do you mind letting Brucey come back now?"

Hulk didn't want let puny scientist back, but he liked puny man of metal. He shut his eyes in a resigned fashion, and Tony watched as the Hulk shrunk in size, his skin taking on a more fleshy tone as he faded back into the good doctor. Bruce sagged to the ground, crumpling to his knees in exhaustion. Once again, his pants hadn't survived. Tony landed gently in front of him and kneeled in his suit in front of the Doctor.

"You alright, Bruce?" Tony asked. Bruce eyes were closed, and he groaned tiredly. He swayed for another minute before slowly blinking back to a more conscious state. His eyes searched the area around himself tiredly before settling on Tony.

"Did I… did he hurt anyone?" It was the same question, every time Bruce transformed. He immediately wanted to know if anyone was hurt and the kind of damage that the other guy had done. The team psychiatrists thought that it might be unhealthy for Bruce to be aware of the actions of his alter ego, but Tony disagreed. No point in forcing a separation between the man and the monster. That lead to angry Bruce, and that led to self control issues, and then the Hulk would start smashing shit.

"Maybe broke a few ribs, but Mommy Issues will live." Tony shrugged. Clint walked up behind them silently; Tony didn't even notice him standing there until a bundle of rough material was shoved into Tony's metal gauntleted hands. Bruce's pants, presumably. "We really need to develop a fabric that can survive your Hulk-outs," Tony stated matter-of-factly as he handed the pants to a very grateful Bruce. "It could save you a lot of embarrassment in the future. I'll put all of R&D on it first thing tomorrow morning."

"I'd prefer it if I just didn't have to Hulk-out again," Bruce grimaced as he pulled the pants on. "Honestly, taking that guy out took the other guy, what, 5 minutes? You guys really couldn't handle that all by yourselves?"

"Give us a break, our Captain is out of it," Tony whined and Bruce almost managed a grin. "Speaking of, you two apprehend Mommy Issues over there; I'll go check up on the Capsicle." Clint and Bruce turned to their assigned task, and Tony walked – rather, strutted – forward in his metal boots to where Steve lay, only partially conscious, on the ground in front of a trashed Honda Civic.

"Tonyyyy!" Steve smiled tiredly as he watched the Iron Man walk closer. "I found you!" Steve giggled in a very un-Steve-like manner. Tony sighed.

"You've suffered a concussion, Capsicle. Sorry about that, and I'll make you a _Get Well Soon _card and send some flowers as soon as we get back to base. But right now you've got to get your shit together, because Fury will be here any minute, and he's gonna want you to explain why this whole thing went to hell," Tony put it as abrasively and bluntly as he possibly could. Best not to smooth over things when dealing with a drunken Cap.

"Fury's gonna be furious," Captain mumbled, and for a moment, Tony was hopeful; that was the first intelligent thing Steve had said since being knocked out of the air by the sound grenade. His hopes fell when Steve emitted another girlish giggle. "Heehee… Fury's gonna be… D'you gets it, Tony?"

"Fucking hilarious, Steve," Tony grumbled, offering a hand to the tipsy Captain. He hoisted Steve to his feet with a little more force than was necessary, so that as soon as Steve was on his feet he almost pitched forward onto his face. Tony snagged him by an arm, however, and pulled Steve upright by placing his arm around his shoulder. Steve dragged his feet a little as Tony staggered towards his other two teammates. "Can I get a hand here?" Tony grunted. Bruce was still kneeling by Sonic Scream's side; feeling gingerly for broken ribs, so Clint hurried forward and took Steve's other arm around his shoulder.

"Hey, Clint… Hey, Clint," Steve mumbled incoherently. "We won, didn't we? We got the bad guy…"

"Hell yeah, we did," Clint agreed. To Tony, "How hard did he hit his head?"

"Hard enough," Tony stated, even as Steve started humming quietly to himself. It sounded a little bit like Queen, but in Steve's concussed state, it could just as easily have been something by Justin Beiber. "How are we going to explain this to Fury?"

"Explain what, exactly?"

Tony flinched, turning towards the SHIELD director, who, with his billowing cape and sinister eye patch, made a much more imposing villain than the Sonic Scream. Not to mention that he was just fucking scary in general. Fury could make the Hulk cry for his mommy, hypothetically. Tony was saved the trouble of answering when Steve tumbled away from the hold that Clint and Tony had on him to wrap his well-muscled arms around Fury. "We did it!" Steve cheered, holding a stunned and increasingly angry Fury tightly in his arms.

"Get off me!" Fury shoved Steve away with both hands, and Steve fell with a bump onto his rear end. He pouted from his new seat on the pavement. "Is he drunk?" Fury asked Tony and Clint, his tone staying true to his name.

"Concussed," Bruce confirmed, abandoning Sonic Scream's side to kneel beside the pouting Captain. He shone a pen light into Steve's eyes, watching the way his pupils dilated in reaction to the light. "Pretty badly, too. This was some hit to the head."

"He totalled some poor chaps Civic," Tony muttered quietly. Only Clint heard, and he snorted.

"Hell," Fury griped angrily. "When will he be fit for duty?"

"Factoring in his rate of healing, it shouldn't be more than a day or two," Bruce confirmed, clicking the pen and turning out the light. Steve raised a bewildered hand and held it over his eyes.

"Wait just a hot second," Tony protested. "Fit for duty? We just did our duty; he's passed out on the ground over there!" Tony flailed a hand towards the unconscious Sonic Scream. "What other duty is there to be done?"

"Your old nemesis, Justin Hammer, was released from prison on a substantial bail this afternoon," Fury explained in a monotone. "We aren't sure if he's a threat, but we want you to tail him for a while."

"And your agents can't do this for you?" Tony complained.

"Hammer isn't SHIELD's problem, Mr. Stark, not yet. You're the one he's pissed at; you, and Miss Pepper Potts." Tony's face whitened visibly at the thought of Hammer going after Pepper. "We'll give Miss Potts every protection available, but we figured that the personal nature of the assignment would mean that you would want to ensure its successful completion."

Tony knew he was being manipulated, but he didn't care. Fury was right; Pepper had to be protected and he didn't trust anyone besides himself and maybe his teammates to do the job. "You got it, Patches," Tony agreed, taking delight in Fury's eyebrow twitch. "As soon as Stars and Stripes here remembers how to tie his shoes, we'll hit the road." As if on cue, Steve hunched forward and vomited onto the pavement.

"Sorry," he mumbled weakly.

"Hell," Fury repeated.

* * *

_Reveiws?_


	3. Thor's Return

Thanks to_ **PrincessMnMz, Me13**_and **_Autumn Moon Fae_ **for reviewing, as well as everyone else who followed or favourited this ;)**  
**

A little shameless Thor/ Jane fluff... because really, it's cute. We'll get back to Charlize and the other Avengers in CHAPTER 4... coming soon to a fan fiction account near you!

_For Sarah, who is so incredibly annoying when she gets an idea in her head, and who gets that same idea stuck in mine until I finally have to write it down as a chapter. I'll poke you for this later, Sarah. :P_

I don't own the Avengers. Although, there is plenty of room for them to live in my basement... Now to pick which one will share my bunk bed...

Enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it!

* * *

**12 months prior…**

_Jane sat at the desk, reading through a textbook on Norse mythologies and legends, but her mind wasn't on her work. She couldn't focus on the ancient tales of the All-Father Odin and of Yggdrasil, because her mind was occupied with the real Norse gods, the ones that weren't simply mythologies written down in textbooks. Specifically, her thoughts centered around one god in particular. _

_It had only been a few days since SHIELD had shown up on her doorstep and unceremoniously demanded that she accompany them to a relocation site somewhere far away from New Mexico. They took Darcy too, and all of their research that they did together. "Where are you taking us?" she had demanded, but she didn't get an answer. She didn't expect to. "Why are you taking us?" she tried again._

_That question seemed less offensive to the stoic agents, and she finally received a reply. "Erik Selvig has been compromised," they told her. "Both you and Miss Lewis are at risk. We need to relocate you for your own safety." _

"_What the hell do you mean, compromised?" Darcy complained from the back seat of the SHIELD issued SUV. "How?"_

"_Loki." That was all the agents said after that. That was all they needed to say, because instantly Darcy's face paled and Jane felt her heart thrumming wildly in her chest. Because if Loki was back, then _he _wasn't far behind. And Jane had missed him so much._

_Jane and Darcy were placed in a small building in the middle of an empty desert somewhere. A detail of SHIELD agents surrounded the building at all times, and Darcy tried hopelessly to flirt her way out of there. "Can you at least bring us some movies and popcorn?" she had begged shamelessly, flaunting her assets in a ridiculously low cut shirt. The male agent had blushed furiously, shaking his head, but the next day they had a small television set. _

_The two of them had watched the Chitauri invasion on the television. The heroes known as the Avengers faced hoards of alien invaders, all directed by the Norse god Loki. Tony Stark; Iron Man, Steve Rogers; Captain America, Bruce Banner – Jane had read a few of his papers that he had published before his 'accident' – The Hulk. Two SHIELD agents; Hawkeye and Black Widow. And suddenly, he was there, in the midst of all the fighting; armour glinting wildly in the sunlight, scarlet cloak flapping behind him, his long blonde locks falling into his angered face as he lashed out with Mjolnir, taking down every enemy in his path._

"_Hey, Jane, it's your boyfriend," Darcy had grinned, glancing over at her mentor and friend. Jane just nodded, her lips pulled taught, her eyes focused on the screen. She followed every move of the man she loved; hoping, _praying_ that he would be safe. Because she needed to see him again. Iron Man flew a missile into the dark pit of space, through a portal opening that Jane had searched for so long to find. The portal closed, the invasion was over, and the Avengers had won. Jane waited._

_And as she waited, she read. Which was how she found herself sitting at the desk in her safe house, reading mythology in a sad attempt to turn to her work without her thoughts drifting to the god she loved. The day had been stormy, the dark clouds overhead rolled with thunder. Jane ignored this all as she threatened to become fully absorbed in her book. _

"_Jane."_

_It was his voice, quietly behind her; the accent that she still couldn't quite place making her name sound like music as it rolled off his tongue. She swiveled in her seat, wide eyes staring as she took in every inch of his large, muscle-bound form. His straight, even features, chiselled jaw and thick neck that disappeared into his full suit of Asgardian battle armour. She took in his long blonde hair, slightly damp from the rain, which fell over his face into his clear blue-gray eyes that were searching her own. "You came back."_

_Thor smiled, his lips curving in to his big, beautiful grin. "I did." She rose from her chair and took a cautious step towards him. Thor opened his arms wide, his eyes a question, and Jane ran forward, wrapping her arms as far as they would go around Thor's expansive chest. He held her gently, careful with his strength, and burrowed his face into the side of her neck. "It has been too long, Lady Jane," he says into her skin._

_And just like that, the moment disappears, and Jane pulled back from their embrace to glare at Thor with accusing eyes. "You said you would return." Thor returned her gaze with confusion._

"_I have returned."_

"_I waited for you. I searched for you!" Jane pushed against his chest, and in his surprise, Thor let go of her. "I thought about you every day! I wondered why you didn't come back, I was afraid that something had happened to you! And all this time, you could have returned, just like you did to come and find Loki!" she hissed at him. "You came back for Loki, but not for me."_

"_I couldn't return," Thor said sadly. His voice sounded broken, and Jane knew that in his eyes would reflect his hurt, like a puppy that someone had just kicked. "In order to defeat Loki, I was forced to destroy the Bifrost. It pained me to do it, Jane, and I begged only for your forgiveness. I searched for a way for coming back; I worked tirelessly to repair the Bifrost, so that I might return for you. When my father learned of Loki's escape, he sent me here to detain him. I had to stop him to protect you, my Lady." Thor's stare was so tender, it was disarming._

_Jane stared at him, a little dumbfounded. "You could have called me," she said. His brow furrowed in confusion once more. _

"_You would have heard me from the mighty new city of York?" he asked, and Jane bit her lip with humour. "I may be a god, Jane, but even my voice cannot reach so far." Jane laughed._

"_I meant on the phone… never mind," she let it drop as his brows furrowed even more. Jane pressed herself against Thor's chest again, felling the cool metal of his armoured chest plate against her forearms as he held her in his grasp again. "I missed you."_

"_And I you." Jane lifted her head and placed her lips on Thor's, kissing him passionately with all of her pent up sorrow and frustration and rage and happiness accumulated in his absence. Thor responded as enthusiastically, lifting her in his arms and holding her close to himself. Jane pressed her lips softly to Thor's once more before settling against him with a sigh._

"_You have to leave again, don't you?" _

_Thor nodded against the crown of her head. "I must return Loki and the Tesseract to Asgard, and see out his sentencing." Jane sighed again, feeling the sting of tears as they welled up in her eyes. A firm, large hand rested on her chin, lifting her face up to stare into Thor's eyes. He wiped the tears away with fingers that were surprisingly gentle. "I will return," he vowed, as solemnly as he had the first time. "Nothing can keep me from you too long, Jane."_

_He held her hand as they walked out into the night, and Thor produced Mjolnir in his hand. He placed one final kiss on her lips before, with a crack of lightning and the booming of thunder, he flew up into the sky and out of sight. At that moment, the heavens opened, and rain fell in a steady downpour, instantly soaking Jane and plastering her dark brown hair down to her head. She stood alone in the rain, staring up at the overcast skies at where Thor had disappeared from her view. "I love you."_

* * *

In the months since, Jane had moved her lab in to the SHIELD headquarters, where she continued her research on the Einstein-Rosen Bridge under the agency's watchful eye –and she meant that quite literally, as it always seemed to be Director Fury standing over her laptop. She had lost her assistant, Darcy, to Dr. Bruce Banner, which had come as a set back at first. Both Jane and Darcy had protested, but Director Fury remained adamant. Perhaps in reconciliation, however, Erik Selvig came to work with Jane again – not until after he had cleared his SHIELD psyche evaluation, however.

Jane had bought herself an apartment in New York; it was a small, two bed roomed flat that was just two blocks away from Stark Tower. She wanted to be close enough to the heroes, she claimed, so they could call on her whenever they needed her. Tony liked to pick her brain sometimes, and Darcy needed a friend to go get coffee with and to rant at about her day and about how 'God damned attractive Bruce Banner was'. The real reason for her relocation, however, was because of Thor. He still hadn't returned from Asgard, but when he did, he would stay at Stark Tower. And Jane wanted to be right there when he did return.

It was late on a Friday night, and Jane was at home, spending her evening the same way as she had every Friday night before. She put some Michael Jackson in the CD player and danced her way around the kitchen, singing loudly and off-key along to _Thriller _while she fried eggs and onions and cheese to make an omelette. She could have called Darcy, she supposed, or gone to Stark Tower to eat take-out with the rest of the team, but she never did. Friday was her 'me night'. Later, she would curl up on the sofa with a glass of wine and a good book and she would read until she felt tired. Then she would lie in bed and miss Thor until she fell asleep.

The onions sizzled in the pan, and hot oil spat itself on to the stove top and Jane hummed to the too loud music. She had an unopened bottle of wine in the fridge, and the latest James Patterson novel waited for her on the table next to her sofa. It was the perfect evening, with only one downside; she would spend it alone.

_Annie are you OK?  
So, Annie are you OK?  
Are you OK Annie? _

Jane mouthed the lyrics as she cracked an egg over the pan. There was a sizzling sound as the egg contacted the hot surface. From the living room behind her there came a soft bang, and Jane froze.

_You've been hit by  
You've been struck by –_

_A smooth criminal_

Jane turned the heat off on the stove burner and moved the frying pan to a cooler surface. She opened the drawer closest to the door and pulled out her taser – a Christmas present from Darcy. Jane stepped quietly around the door leading into the living room, holding her taser in front of her as a clear warning.

"My Lady Jane, I have returned to you." She couldn't believe it. His deep bass was calm and reassuring, full of unspoken tenderness, but he eyed the taser warily. "Would you please put down the weapon of lightning that Lady Darcy so favours using?"

That proved to her that he was real, and Jane laughed. The taser clattered to the floor, forgotten, and she ran forward, leaping into his strong arms without reservations. Her lips crashed into his and she kissed him without abandon, teasingly parting her lips to graze her teeth against his skin. Thor laughed; setting her down gently to the floor - she hadn't noticed in her enthusiasm that he had lifted her once again – and his eyes took her in like a blind man seeing for the first time. "I think I should leave more often, that you might react as such upon my return," he chuckled, and Jane smacked his chest lightly.

"No more leaving" she pouted. Thor smiled, tossing his dark blonde hair back from his forehead.

"Never," he said, and he kissed her once more. Jane leaned against him, and suddenly they were falling backwards, over the arm of her sofa and landing on the soft cushions. The sofa protested loudly at the sudden weight bearing down on it, and they shifted their position so that they were now sitting more companionably side by side, Jane practically sitting in Thor's lap with his arms enclosing her protectively. Jane's warm brown eyes bored into his, so full of sweet emotion that it caught Thor's breath.

"I love you" she announced brightly. "I realize I never said that to you before you left. I love you," she repeated solemnly, and Thor's eyes widened. He smiled with deep pleasure.

"As I love you, Jane." He caressed her name in his mouth, tasting its sweetness on his tongue. Jane… the name was as dear to him now as life itself, and it held value far above his own. Jane laughed, she truly had the most beautiful laugh among all mortals, and she stood, taking his hand in hers and attempting to pull him to his feet. Thor obliged.

"I'm making omelettes," she said, pulling him towards the kitchen. "Have dinner with me."

"What are these… omelettes, of which you speak?" he asked brightly, following her direction to a wooden chair set at a large, glass topped table. Jane stood in the kitchen where he could just see her, and she flipped something large and yellow in a large black pan. The smell was wondrous.

"It's a kind of food," Jane explained, setting two plates down on the table, one in front of him and one just across from him, where she sat. "Try it, you'll like it." Thor eyes the yellow substance speculatively, but when Jane cut off a piece and placed it happily in her mouth, he decided that it couldn't be so bad. He tasted a morsel.

"By Odin's beard, this is delicious!" he exclaimed, his voice rocking the apartment like thunder. Jane laughed, amused by his enthusiasm for Midgardian breakfast foods. First Pop Tarts, now omelettes… she had to make him try pancakes in the morning. He scarfed down the omelette quickly, relishing its taste on his tongue. Thor opened his mouth to loudly demand another, his hand gripping the edge of his plate tightly as he prepared to smash it against the floor, but then he caught the Jane's pointed glance. His mouth closed, and his hand relaxed. "May I…' he spoke hesitantly, quietly. "May I have another… please?" The formality felt strange in his mouth, but seeing the happiness light on Jane's face let him know that he had indeed done the right thing in accordance to Midgard's customs.

"Yes, you may," Jane smiled.

Later that evening, after Jane and Thor had washed the dishes together (a plate had been broken in that ordeal, but it was an accident – Thor found the soap to be too slippery) they sat together on Jane's sofa, and they talked. Jane told Thor about all of the progress she had made in her research, and he commented every so often on how impressed he was at her comprehension of the connections between magic and science. Thor told her about Asgard: about his life there, his friends, his role as prince, and his family. His eyes filled with tears when he told her of Loki's forced exile to the Isle of Silence, and Jane comforted him. They talked and laughed and kissed and revelled in each other's company.

Then, when Jane had fallen asleep in Thor's arms, he had gently laid her out on her bed and tucked her in beneath her covers. He sat beside her on her bed, one hand stroking her arm as he gazed adoringly at the mortal woman he had come to love. Sitting there with Jane asleep by his side, for the first time since his return to Asgard to escort his brother Loki and the Tesseract to the All-Father, Thor felt completely at home.

* * *

_I get that some people may think Jane listening to MJ and __reading James Patterson might be a little OC, but seriously? James Paterson is awesome, and 'me-nights' are all about reading random popular fiction. As for Michael... issues aside, the man could sing. And dance. And the song fits. And maybe I was listening to my i-pod when I first wrote this..._

_What do we think? _

_**Love it? Hate it? Drop me a line!**  
_


	4. On Stakeout

_Thanks to ye who reviewed, and everyone who has liked or favorited this so far!_

_We now return to Charlize, Steve, Clint, and Tony being an asshole.  
But we all love him that way ;)_

* * *

The sharp grating of gravel under Steve's boot reverberated in his ears, causing him to wince in pain as the noise dug harshly in to his recovering brain. Steve was still feeling the after effects of his concussion from the Sonic Scream attack two days prior. Dr. Banner assured him that it was normal, and that the headaches would go away soon, but in the meantime, Steve was stuck grimacing in pain every time there was a loud or irritating noise near him.

"Hey, Capsicle?" Speaking of irritating noises…

"What is it, Stark?" Steve said, probably a little more sharply than he usually would have. Tony didn't reply for several long moments afterwards, and Steve was naïve enough to think that maybe, just maybe, he was going to keep his mouth shut. Then:

"…Hi."

"Tony, is it your mission in life to annoy me as much as possible!" Steve spat viciously into his hands as he sniped back at Tony through fritted teeth. "For the remainder of the mission, can we please maintain radio silence unless absolutely necessary?"

"Let the record show that our Captain is speaking in harsh, threatening tones." Tony was undoubtedly smirking, but Steve wasn't about to look up to see Tony's best shit-eating grin. "How's the headache Cap? Sure you don't want me to pop down to the drug store, maybe bring you back some ibuprofen or something?"

"For the love of God, Stark, if you don't shut up, I'm going to-" Steve growled furiously. His head was killing him, and Tony was only making it worse.

"Threatened! I feel threatened! Hey, Barton, is he allowed threatening me like that?" Tony turned to the third man accompanying them on their reconnaissance mission. Clint had been, mercifully, silent throughout most of the exchange, but he rolled back from the balls of his feet to perch more comfortably on the branch of his tree while he answered.

"As far as I'm concerned, Tony, you deserve it. Quit being an asshole." Steve nodded his thanks at the assassin while still staring down at his feet. The three of them were on a stakeout outside of Hammer's factory lair in the warehouse district. Clint had perched himself in the nearest tree – there was really only the one – to do surveillance with some of the high-tech SHIELD issued gadgetry. Clint said he worked best with a birds-eye view, and Steve didn't argue. On the ground, Steve crouched in full uniform, waiting for any sort of word from Clint. Tony leaned casually against the trunk on the tree, dressed in jeans and his Black Sabbath concert t-shirt with a hoodie thrown over top, his one Converse enclosed foot resting on the case that held his Iron Man suit. He had a glass of scotch in his hand, although where he had pulled that from, Steve didn't want to know.

"Buzz kill," Tony pouted, knocking back another mouthful of the probably very expensive scotch. Steve rubbed his hands angrily against his temples. His helmet was resting in the gravel at his feet, and the cold October wind was soothing against his aching head.

"Stark, can you at least try to take this seriously?" Steve begged down at his knees. His voice cracked with desperation and sheer exhaustion from dealing with the billionaire playboy. "This is your girl we're trying to protect here."

"My girl?" Tony smirked. "Don't you ever let Pepper catch you saying that, or she will tear you apart. Pepper belongs to no one but herself." Another drink, and Tony pointed an accusing finger towards the Captain. "Just for the record, I didn't ask any of you guys to be here."

"No, Fury did." Steve replied. "And we agreed, because were your friends, and we care about Pepper too."

"Right, and not because Fury's one scary son of a bitch when you say 'no' to him?" Tony smiled knowingly as Steve shot him a glare over his shoulder. "I would've been fine by myself, but it's sweet of you to care, Capsicle. It really is."

Steve was well aware that the sarcasm Tony employed was his way of protecting himself from hurt, but it really grated on his nerves sometimes. He sighed loudly and turned back to musing at the ground beneath his feet. The gravel stones were all close to the same size, indicating that they were likely manmade, and then spread in the vicinity of the warehouses to make a makeshift parking lot across from the lot that held Hammer's building. The stones were all a similar washed out gray color in the dim light of the dawn, but each stone had tiny imperfections that caused it to differ from its brothers. Steve wished he had brought his sketchpad; he had the sudden urge to draw the gravel.

His one sketchpad was full of drawings like that; sketches and rough doodles of tiny items and pieces of technology that had drawn him in and fascinated him in the new century. He could recall the day that he had discovered the toaster oven in Tony's kitchen. Its smooth, shiny surface had moved him in a strange way. He had spent the next four hours trying to capture its shape perfectly on the paper, trying to mimic its metallic luster underneath the bright overhead lights of the kitchen. Another drawing he had done outside of a small café just down the road from Stark tower. It depicted the crowds of people rushing in all directions around the busy streets of New York, but the focus of the drawing was one woman who sat alone, waiting for her bus, talking on her cell phone with animated hands. It had fascinated Steve, that she could be so absorbed in her tiny electronic device that she couldn't even notice the people around her. No one stopped to say 'hello' any more, no one smiled at you on the street. This New York was very different than the one Steve had grown up in.

His other sketchbook had been saved from before the war, and Steve used that one to capture images from his past. He drew from memory the face of the old woman who had lived next to his apartment in Brooklyn, before he had been injected with the super-soldier serum. She used to make the best smelling pies, and some days she would have invited Steve over for a piece and they would talk. About the war, about her deceased husband, about his schooling. He couldn't remember her name, but he knew her face. It haunted his dreams. That happened to him frequently; he would dream up a face from the past, and it would never leave him until he put it to paper. His team, rescued from Hydra, members of the 107th. Bucky, eternally captured in the midst of telling a humorous joke, his smile etched to paper by Steve's hand. On his worst nights, when he woke up screaming and drenched in a sweat, Steve drew Peggy. Frowning, laughing at him, and rolling her eyes as he botched another attempt to understand women. She had had the most beautiful eyes; eyes that, no matter how many times he drew them, he could never ever get them right. He would take out his frustration on the punching bags in Stark's gym, and every night he thought he was getting a little better. His dreams told him differently.

"Cap, you awake?" Steve jumped, his eyes flying open in surprise and he scrambled for his shield, resting against the trunk of the tree. He whipped it around to cover his face before realizing that the source of his shock was just a slightly inebriated and now very smug Tony Stark. Steve blushed angrily as he dropped his shield back down to his side. Tony laughed, his alcohol scented breath uncomfortably close to Steve's face as he leaned over him. "You fell asleep there, Captain. Maybe someone needs to put you to bed."

"Go away, Stark," Steve groaned, the pounding in his head resuming as he leaned back away from the highly amused genius.

"Definitely cranky. When is your bedtime anyways, gramps? Cause I feel like I should know these things, you know, in case you get a little tired on future stakeouts," Tony shifted even closer, invading Steve's personal bubble and grinning at Steve's exhausted attempts at pushing him away.

"Will you two shut up?" Clint hissed from his perch. "I think I see something, but I can't concentrate with you bickering like an old married couple." Tony raised his eyebrows at Steve in surprise.

"No offense, Captain, but you're really not my type."

"The feeling is mutual."

"Quiet!"

On the other side of the lot, Charlize poked her head out from behind the fire escape of the warehouse building she was kneeling on the roof of. From this vantage point, she could see three members of the Avengers team, but for all she knew, there could be more. While trekking across New Jersey into the state of New York, Charlize had stolen a few newspaper articles and magazines in an attempt to bring herself up to date with the Avengers.

The one perched in the tree, wielding a bow and arrow was Hawkeye, a SHIELD agent and archer extraordinaire. The man dressed in the jeans and hoodie, now leaning over his star spangled teammate was Tony Stark, genius, billionaire, playboy and Iron Man. Of course, the feeling of the metal encased at his feet was anything but iron, which led Charlize to believe that the name was just some clever media hype. The well-built man with blonde hair in the red, white and blue was Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America, the product of a super-soldier experiment during the Second World War. Captain Rogers had been frozen in the ice for nearly 70 years before a government intelligence agency known as SHIELD had resurrected him. Together, along with a Norse god named Thor, another SHIELD agent called Black Widow, and an enormous green monster known as The Hulk, they made up the Avengers team that had been defenders of the world since the Chitauri attack on New York City a little over a year previously.

That was just what Charlize had been able to glean from the various news articles, but in her mind, they were the weirdest sort of team imaginable. 6 people, all with extraordinary abilities and different backgrounds, forced to live together and work in unison for the protection of the planet. It sounded crazy, and yet here she was, cautiously thinking of the best way to approach them and ask to join their team. She must be as crazy as they were, but 12 years in a cage did things to one's mind.

She stepped carefully around the fire escape to a point where she could have a clearer view of the parking lot where the team waited, presumably on stakeout. She had actually followed them from the battleground in downtown Manhattan, waiting for a few days in an alley near Stark tower while they were each patched up and assigned their new mission. Now they were just sitting not so patiently outside of a warehouse, and she was there watching. She took another step forward and winced as pain shot through her foot. She looked down; the rooftop was littered with debris and bits of glass beer bottles, a shard of brownish colored glass had embedded itself in the ball of her left foot.

She knelt down slowly, easing her weight on to the opposite foot to avoid putting any pressure on the glass. Crimson blood leaked from around the obstruction in her wound, which she grasped gingerly with cold fingers. She hissed in a pained breath as she pulled the shard of glass out. The blood flowed freely from the deep cut; soon her entire foot was coated in red. Charlize stood carefully, holding her injured appendage up from the ground slightly as she tried to balance on one leg.

Charlize flung a hand out to catch herself on the edge of the fire escape before she slipped on her lone foot and tumbled over. She glanced back towards the Avengers where they were crowded around the one tree. Suddenly, they looked to be on high alert. Tony Stark had pushed his case away from the tree, planting one sneaker firmly on the lid. She could hear the quiet mechanical whirring as the device came to life, sliding sheets of metal up Tony's legs, torso, arms, finally covering his head in a red and gold metallic alloy. Captain Rogers was rising unsteadily to his feet, pulling his patriotic shield onto his left arm with a practiced hand. In the tree, Hawkeye drew and arrow from the quiver on his back and slid it into place on his bow, pointing it towards the factory building across the road from them. What was he shooting at?

Suddenly, Hawkeye's bow whipped around, until the arrow tip was pointing directly towards Charlize. She realized too late what that meant, and she didn't have time to duck out of the way before Hawkeye's fingers released the arrow. A blunt, agonizing pain struck her in the chest and she fell backwards, slamming her head against the fire escape before crashing into the ground. She reached her fingers upwards, longing to touch the metal, to revitalize herself, but the pain in her head spiked and she blacked out.

"Nice shot, Barton," Tony whistled appreciatively, his voice distorted through the Iron Man helmet. "Did you hit it?"

"I always hit my target," Clint huffed, sounding offended. That prompted a laugh from Tony, who took off in to the air with a blast from the soles on his boots.

"Watch the ego, there, Barton, 'cause someday you'll eat your words," Tony commented. Steve snorted. Because Tony was the one to give advice on the size of one's ego. Tony twisted around in the air. "I heard that, Cap," he warned, wagging a finger at Steve in its gold-titanium alloy gauntlet.

"Good." Steve replied absently. Headache forgotten in the adrenaline rush of the mission, he started running towards the building where, just moments before, Clint had shot down a potentially hostile force. Tony sighed before taking to the skies once more. He landed on the rooftop before Steve had even made it halfway to the building, and promptly began to search for Clint's target. "Anything, Tony?"

"Yeah, just gimme a-" Tony's voice cut off suddenly. "Oh shit."

"Tony!" Steve pushed harder, full on sprinting towards Tony's location. "Tony, are you okay?"

"Clint! You took out a teenager!" Steve almost sighed in relief, hearing Tony's reproachful tone. Iron Man suddenly appeared over the side of the rooftop, holding a limp figure in his arms. Steve came to a halt as Tony drifted down from the rooftop, settling gently on the gravel next to the side of the building. He took a few steps forward to meet Steve and lint, who had come up just behind Steve, before kneeling and laying the girl down o the ground.

The first thing that Steve noticed was that she was beautiful. She had a slender, toned form that was only partially concealed by her loose clothing. Her skin was perfect ivory, pale and smooth. Her long hair was a deep shade of mahogany, and it fell it voluminous curls across her chest. Her lips were full and her nose was long and narrow; her face was perfectly proportioned in the way that was every artists dream. Then Steve blinked and he really saw her.

She wasn't just slender, she was painfully thin. Her half starved ribs jutted out from her chest, and her musculature clung to frail bone. Her pale skin had the unhealthy pallor of one who has not seen the sun in too long, and it was covered with various scrapes and bruises; the most recent of which seeming to be a deep cut to the bottom of her foot that bled profusely. Her mahogany locks were matted and dirty, dull with a lack of washing. Her full lips had a ghostly blue tint to them, and her eyes flickered wildly beneath her lids in a terrified dream state. "She's just a girl," Steve exclaimed mournfully. Tony lifted his face mask, and his dark eyes echoed Steve's stunned sentiment. Clint, on the other hand, looked unconcerned by her age or gender.

"It doesn't matter if she's a guy, or a girl or a freaking fairy princess. She's been watching us for God knows how long, which means she wanted something from us. I say we take her in, let the good Doctor fix up her injuries, and then SHIELD can question her." Clint crossed is arms assertively.

"What injuries?" Steve demanded. "She's fine, look at her!" Clint glanced down at the unconscious girl in surprise. Tony had slipped off his metal gauntlets and was now kneeling by the girl, probing her chest with gentle hands.

"Capsicle is right," Tony confirmed. "I'm no doctor, but this girl doesn't even have a broken rib."

"That's impossible," Clint protested. "Even with a blunt arrow, that force should have a least cracked the sternum."

"Just telling it like it is," Tony raised his hands defensively before slipping the gauntlets back on and standing again. "She's got quite the bump to the back of the head, though, so I doubt she'll be waking up any time soon."

"I still say we take her back to headquarters," Clint insisted, and Steve opened his mouth in protest. "Whoever she is," Clint cut off Steve's protest, "I doubt she just happened to chance across us here tonight and decided to watch us on stakeout. Fury's gonna want to question her, to see what she knows. We take her back with us." Tony and Steve didn't move, but the sighs of discontentment from the both of them spoke of their resigned take on the situation. Clint stepped forward to sling the unconscious girl over his shoulder, but Steve grabbed his arm with a strong hand.

"I'll carry her." Clint looked surprised, but he nodded and stepped back to allow the super soldier access. Steve felt oddly protective as he knelt down to lift the girl. He held her head against his chest tightly to stop it from flopping about wildly in her present state. Her skin was cold, a cold that permeated through the fabric of his uniform, chilling him right to his core. He shivered as he rose, hoisting her unsubstantial weight higher in his arms. In her unconscious slumber, the girl whimpered and rolled in closer to Steve's warmth, and he held her tighter to his chest. "Come on," he said to the still Tony and Clint. "Let's get her in the van and get back to headquarters. Hammer isn't doing anything here anyways."

Without waiting for a reply, he strode away towards where one of the SHIELD SUV's was parked, waiting with a small team of agents inside. He heard Tony and Clint's footsteps on the gravel as they followed him in silence. Steve glanced down at the girl huddled in his grasp, and felt that same need to protect her as he had earlier. There was something disarming about her simple perfection and pathetic state that made him want to hold her closer than he already was. They walked in silence for several minutes until they reached the van, and several agents poured out of the back doors to meet them. Then Tony:

"Shotgun! Called it!"

* * *

"Rogers!" Almost as soon as Steve had stepped out of the SHIELD vehicle, Director Fury pounced, glaring at him with his one good eye in clear anger and disapproval. "What the hell are you doing back here? You're supposed to be on stakeout."

"We were, sir," Steve stood rigidly at attention, every bit the soldier as Fury glared at him. Behind him, several SHIELD agents lifted the stretcher bearing the girl out of the van, overseen by an attentive Clint Barton. "It looks to be all clear, sir. No signs of activity."

"And what the hell is that?" Fury bellowed upon seeing the stretcher laden with the unconscious girl. Tony stepped out of the van after, his Iron Man suit once again collapsed into the red and gold suit case that he carried at his side. Upon seeing the enraged SHIELD director, Tony grinned; angry Fury was his favourite play thing. He loved pushing Fury's buttons, but Steve shot him a warning glare over his shoulder. They weren't going to get in a fight over the girl, not when her protection had somehow become Steve's primary concern.

"She was watching us on location, sir," Steve explained as Fury circled past him to examine the girl more closely. "Agent Barton took her down with a blunt tipped arrow. She didn't sustain any damage from the attack, sir, and we thought you would like to question her when she recovers."

"And she's unconscious because?" Fury turned his glare to Clint, who struggled not to wince under such close scrutiny. Steve noticed his discomfort and came to his rescue.

"Not necessarily Agent Barton's fault, sir. She hit her head on a fire escape," Steve explained. Fury looked satisfied, turning away from Clint to examine the girl again. Clint caught Steve's eye and subtly gave him a thumbs up. _You owe me one, _Steve mouthed at the agent, and Clint grimaced in acknowledgement.

"Well, that's a good thing. I can only imagine the paperwork that Agent Barton would have to do if it were revealed that he had harmed a civilian in any way," Fury almost smirked.

"Ouch. Sucks to be you, Legolas," Tony quipped, patting Clint on the shoulder in a way that could have been consoling, if Tony wasn't the one doing it. "So, what do you say we take her up to my medical bay, Director, and let Banner have a look at her?"

"She wasn't harmed from the attack in any way?" Fury mused, his eyes taking on a whole new calculative expression that Steve didn't like as he examined the girl.

"No sir," Clint spoke up. "It was a good shot, and she should at least have some broken ribs, but it didn't even make a dent in her." Steve winced at his choice of words. 'Making a dent' sounded so harsh, and it didn't feel right to talk about the girl in such an abrasive way while standing over her unconscious body.

"Interesting," Fury murmured. One gloved hand held the girls wrist carefully, feeling for a pulse. "Stark, direct these agents to your medical bay, and call on Dr. Banner. I expect updates on the girl's condition, or I'll send Agent Hill to bring her to our own facilities."

"Aye aye, Captain!" Tony saluted, grinning almost idiotically at Fury's low growl. "Hop to it, agents!" Tony barked loudly at the SHIELD agents bearing the girls stretcher. They jumped up enthusiastically at his orders. "March! Follow me!"

"Captain Rogers, keep an eye on her, will you?" Steve turned quickly to face Fury, whose eyes followed the girl as she was born away on her stretcher up to the medical bay. "If my suspicions are correct, she'll be of great use to us once she wakes up." Fury had that look in his eye, the look that said he wanted something and was willing to do anything to get it. Steve gulped nervously.

"With all due respect, sir," Steve said, trying to keep his nervousness and concern for the girl out of his tone. "What use could she be of to us? She's just a girl."

Fury chuckled. "You used to be nothing but an asthmatic from Brooklyn, if I recall. Don't judge her by her appearance." Fury turned, whisking his trench coat along after him as he strutted out of the Stark Tower parking garage. "Keep me updated." Steve was left alone, puzzled, his thoughts several stories above with the girl on the stretcher.

* * *

"Tony," Bruce sighed, pushing is face into his hands and running them through his unruly dark hair, "you do know I'm not a real medical doctor, right?"

The two of them were standing in the medical bay, after a very enthusiastic and annoying Tony had just dragged the irate Dr. Banner away from his work in the lab, forcing him to accompany Tony down three floors to the medical offices. Tony waved a hand dismissively at Bruce. "You've done doctor stuff before, right? I mean, it's not exactly rocket science. Fury just wants you to keep an eye on her until her condition improves.

"Who is her, exactly?" Bruce interrupted angrily. He had been in the middle of writing up a very important report on the Tesseract energy signatures in relation to gamma radiation, not to mention that Darcy had just been about to bring him a cup of tea. Tony rolled his eyes.

"Is this because I pulled you away from your lab and Miss Lewis?" Bruce flushed and Tony smirked knowingly. "If it's any consolation I'm sure she'll be waiting for you when you get back. She never leaves the lab unless you do, she's quite smitten." Tony leaned closer to Bruce in a conspiratorial fashion. "You're so tapping that, right?"

"What!" Bruce jumped back, pushing Tony away.

"No, then?" Tony tutted. "That's a shame, Bruce. Darcy's a beautiful girl. I'd get a move on if I were you. Unless you're not into that…" Tony raised a calculative brow a Bruce. It was Bruce's turn to roll his eyes.

"No, Tony, I'm not 'tapping' Darcy. Only you could make that sound so vulgar. She's a very, very beautiful girl, I just…" Bruce sighed, and is cheeks blushed red.

"You just said she was beautiful. You are so in love with her!" Tony clapped his hands and laughed delightedly. "I fucking love playing match maker."

"No, Tony," Bruce warned, and he allowed a hint of green to play at his eyes to show Tony just how serious he was. "You are not setting me up with Darcy. It's too dangerous for her, and I'm not going to put her at risk like that."

"Aww, you're protecting her," Tony sighed overdramatically. "That's so cute. But if you change your mind…"

"Didn't you have a patient for me," Bruce growled in exasperation. Tony laughed.

"I thought you weren't a real medical doctor," he said snidely, waving someone behind the door forward with his hand. A posse of SHIELD agents marched in, carrying a pristine white stretcher stained with blood and dirt that came from the person lying on it. They placed the stretcher alongside the cot in the centre of the medical bay and carefully, in unison, they lifted the girl off the stretcher and on to the cot. Tony saluted each agent as the filed out of the room. Just before the door could close, Steve slipped in and leaned carefully against the wall, as far as he could possibly be away from any of the technological equipment.

Bruce stepped up to the cot, pushing his glasses further up his nose to examine the girl on the cot. She was bleeding from a wound to the back of her head, and a cut that spanned the bottom of her foot. His clinical eye immediately noticed her wilted state, presumably from a lack of nutrition. His sharp intake of breath at the sight caused Steve to start slightly where he stood.

"What? How bad is it?"

Bruce didn't reply, but the haste with which he moved towards the storage unit made it pretty clear to even Steve just how bad he thought it was. Rummaging through the storage, Bruce flicked a hand in the general direction of an IV pole, and Tony wordlessly wheeled one towards his science partner. Bruce hooked the IV bag up, feeding the tubing through his hands as he reurned to the girl's side. The needle slid under her skin, and Bruce sighed slightly, reverting back just slightly from his clinical and concerned Doctor mode.

"Where did you say you found this girl, again?" Bruce questioned Tony. Now somewhat more relaxed now that the girl was on the good stuff, Bruce allowed himself to quickly examine her body.

"Warehouse district," Tony supplied. "Up on one of the roofs. Gave Hawk-ass a run for his money."

"At a glance, I'd say she's severely malnourished, Bruce explained. "Unconscious, probably due to the head wound," Bruce continued with a quiet commentary to himself. "Probably will require stitches for the head and the foot. Tony, see if you can't get me a tetanus vaccination, just to be sure. Where was she found?" This was all said very quickly.

"She was watching us while we were on stakeout," Steve explained. "Clint shot her down as a potential threat. It didn't harm her in any way that we could determine."

"Clint's a good shot," Bruce mused absently as he quickly and expertly attached the girl to monitors that displayed her heart rate and brain activity. "Could be internal injuries. I'll run a few CAT scans tomorrow to be sure. Fury's going to want updates." It was a statement of fact, not a question, but Steve nodded in agreement anyways.

"He asked me to keep an eye on her," Steve explained. "If that's all right with you…"

"Its fine," Bruce smiled warmly, and Steve was reminded of how much he liked the mild-mannered Doctor; when he wasn't going green and trashing everything in sight, that was. "Tony, I'll check up on her again tomorrow." Bruce turned to the billionaire. "Get me those vaccinations, please. And don't you dare interrupt my work ever again without informing me of why first."

"I doubt the sleepovers that you and Darcy have in your lab count as work, Doc," Tony grinned. "I'll get right on it." Tony turned and made a dramatic exit from the room. With an exasperated sigh, Bruce glanced back at Steve.

"You'll be okay in here alone?"

Steve was staring at the girl again, he hardly heard the question. But he nodded in response, and thought he heard a soft chuckle before the door to the medical bay slammed shut once again. Now he was alone with her. Steve walked forward cautiously, careful to avoid any wires as he approached her bedside. The heart rate monitor beeped in a comforting way next to the bed, and Steve settled into the hard, molded plastic chair next to it.

He didn't know what to do, huddled over her bedside like a sort of guardian angel. The implications of this courtesy were lost on Steve; he hadn't really been one for hospitals at any point in his life. He had visited comrades who had taken a hit during the war, but it was always someone he knew, or someone that he had fought alongside. Considering, he knew the unconscious girl in no way. He was timid as he took her small, cold hand in one of his. Her skin was smooth to the touch, and it left his tingling at the contact. The girl whimpered again, and Steve held on tighter.

"It's okay," he assured her in a quiet voice. "You're safe.

* * *

_Lot's of potty mouth in this chapter. Shame, Tony. Shame!  
_

_What do we think? _

_**Love it? Hate it? Review and let me know!**  
_


	5. Waking Nightmares

_**Thanks you guys so much, for reading and favouriting this. I love the love for my OC, and I'm always glad to keep the readers guessing. **_

_**You guys are FANTASTIC!, really.  
**_

_**A little Pepperony for you all, and just a bit of... Steve/ Charlize? They need a ship name!**_

* * *

_He can taste the scotch on his tongue and feel the wind blowing his hair back, messing up his casually gelled look as the SUV races through the desert landscape. The three soldiers riding with him laugh at something he says, and one of them leans in closer for a picture. _

"_I don't want to see this on your MySpace page… Please, no gang signs… __No, throw it up. I'm kidding. Yeah, peace. I love peace. I'd be out of a job with peace."_

_The explosion rocks the vehicle, sending it careening off to the side of the road as the SUV motorcade is hit with incendiary projectiles. Bullets rain against the reinforced metal, perforating the sides and riddling it with holes. He rolls out of his seat, opening the door and running for the hills. He skids to a halt and leans back against a large rock, fingers reaching desperately for his phone to call for help. There is an electronic whirring, and beside him in the ground lays a very familiar looking missile, primed to detonate. __**Stark Industries.**_

"No!"

"Tony!"

_His chest burns and screams with angered pain, he cries out as someone digs into his chest, withdrawing blood and flesh and metal. Each clink of shrapnel falling into glass sounds a thousand times louder in his ears. The mechanical hum of the car battery is his only tie to life, the only thing keeping him from slipping into the void; the walking dead, as Yinsen calls it. He is literally a dead man walking._

"Tony, wake up!"

_That voice… His head plunges beneath the frigid waves of water, he splutters for breath, but he can't fucking breath. He's trying desperately not to choke the water in to his lungs. Hands yank sharply on his hair, straining and pulling him to the surface and he breathes soothingly stagnant air for a moment, before he is under again and the cold water burns like fire after such a brief relief. "Tony!" someone cries, or maybe it is just in his head. It sounds like Miss Potts, like his Pepper. _

"Tony, I'm right here. You're okay, you're safe!"

_Yinsen lies dying, bleeding profusely from the bullet holes that riddle his chest, staining his front crimson. "__Come on, you're going to go see your family. Get up," he pleads desperately. Yinsen smiles sadly, shaking his head and whispering._

"_My family is dead, Stark... and I'm going to see them now. Its okay, I want this... I want this." He feels his heart break for Yinsen, the man who saves him, the man who sacrifices for his family, knowing that they were dead, knowing that he would join them._

"_Thank you for saving me." It's the least thing he can give him; his thanks. Yinsen speaks one last time, and then he's gone. _

"_Don't waste it... don't waste your life."_

Suddenly, Afghanistan was gone, and Tony sat upright in his bed, at home in Stark Tower. He gasped for breath, gulping down air and exhaling hoarsely. His eyes were wide, frightened; haunted by the face of the dead man who he had come to call his friend. But he wasn't in the cave, he was home, he was safe, and the light of his arc reactor bathed the room in blue light. Tony let his breathing slow, and he pushed his dark locks back from his fevered forehead.

"Tony, I'm here." A small, delicate hand was rubbing soothing circles on his bare back, and Tony could feel Pepper as she pressed her warmth against his bare skin. He leaned back against her, dropping his customary guard down for a moment to allow her to comfort him. "You're okay, Tony. It was just a dream."

A nightmare, really. One that hadn't plagued Tony in months. "I know," he whispered, more for himself than for Pepper's benefit. The dreams had been most frequent when Tony had first returned from Afghanistan, but he hadn't had a nightmare like that in a long time. And Pepper hadn't always been there to comfort him. "I love you, you know," he said to her, trying his best to sound casual even after what had just happened.

Pepper laughed weakly. "I know," she replied. She removed her hand from his back, instead slipping it in to his own hand as the pair of them lay back on the bed, side by side underneath the covers. Her fingers shifted comfortably against his, twining their hands together. "I love you too."

"Well, that's a given," he remarked, allowing his usual sarcastic demeanor to creep back in to his tone. She laughed lightly, but her heart wasn't in it. She worried about him, and he knew it too. He hated making her worry. Life had been a lot easier when he only needed to be concerned with his own needs. Not that he wanted to go back to the way things were before. Before, when he had had no concern for the people that his weapons hurt. Before, when getting drunk and getting laid were his chief concerns in life. Becoming Iron Man had changed that, but more importantly, Pepper had changed that. He might ever admit it out loud, but having someone worry about him was as comforting as it was troublesome. At least he knew he was wanted.

Pepper wasn't going to let her worries drop so easily, either. "Tony, I thought the nightmares had stopped. Do you want to talk about it?" She was asking him, not demanding that he talk to a therapist, like SHIELD had tried to make him do once. Only once. No, Tony didn't want to talk about it. But he needed to.

"I heard your voice," he said quietly. Pepper turned her head on its side so her face was to him. Her coppery blonde hair fell in wisps across her face. He brushed it back with gentle fingers, tucking it behind her ear. Her eyes were full of questions, and he allowed himself to gaze at her for a moment, resting his hand on her cheek, wondering what the hell he had done in his life that made him deserving of the woman lying next to him.

"In your dream?" she asked carefully. Tony shook his head.

"In the cave." Pepper knew only the vaguest details about his imprisonment, which was a lot more than most people did. She, at least, knew all about the cave they had held him in. She was one of the only people he had talked to about it in detail, and what he hadn't described, she had heard him whispering before in his sleep. "They wanted me to make weapons for them. I refused. They didn't like that." Tony almost chuckled. "So they tortured me." He heard Pepper's sharp intake of breath beside him.

"I didn't know that," she admitted.

"You guessed." Her silence was confirmation enough of his statement. She knew that he would no longer bear being enclosed in small spaces for too long; even elevators had made him nervous for the first few months after his return. And forget swimming pools... Tony had even gone so far as to remove all bathtubs in the initial blueprints for Stark tower and replace them with oversized showers. It helped, but apparently Tony's precautions couldn't keep the nightmares away entirely. "When I was under, I kept hearing this voice, calling my name. Your voice. You were there for me, Pepper." Tony Stark wasn't usually one for sentiment, but no one could have doubted the sincerity of his tone. "You've always been there for me."

"I always will be," Pepper assured him, leaning forward to press her lips softly against his still feverish forehead. Her delicate fingers found his chest and ran over the arc reactor that was embedded there. Her nails made soft clicking noises as they ran over small irregularities on the otherwise perfectly smooth surface. 'Battle scars', as Tony liked to call them. The soft glow of the reactor bathed her face in a pale blue light, throwing the musing expression of her features into sharper relief.

"What are you thinking about?"

Her eyes shifted from his arc reactor to his face, and Pepper's blue eyes met Tony's brown ones inquisitive gaze. "You. Me. Us."

"Can you narrow that down for me a little bit?" he smiled, and Pepper did too, lightly smacking him on the chest with an open palm.

"Our future. Do you ever think about it?" Tony paused at the question. Did he ever think about the future? So much of his life seemed to happen at a fast pace, whether it was dealing with the press or inventing some new science-y shit or saving the world. Planning wasn't really Tony's thing, especially when it came to the future.

"I don't know," he answered honestly. Pepper sighed and rolled back to stare at the ceiling. "Do you?"

"Sometimes," she admitted quietly. "I think about what it would be like, waking up next to you every morning… or in the middle of the night." Her lips twitched into a quick smile that faded just as quickly. "Then I remember that my boyfriend is Tony Stark, and Tony Stark doesn't plan for the future."

"I make plans!" he retorted in indignation, and Pepper turned disbelieving eyes towards him. Tony paused. "… Okay, I'll give you that one. But if I had to decide right now what I wanted my future to be, waking up next to you sounds like a pretty good way to spend it. You. Me. Us. The future," he teased her.

"Do you mean that, Mr. Stark?" Her tone took on a more teasing light, and she sidled over beneath the sheets to press her naked body against his. She felt soft and warm to his touch, and Tony smiled.

"I do, Miss Potts. Every word." She closed his lips with a kiss.

* * *

Every night, he saw their faces. Bucky. Howard. Peggy. Eyes wide, staring at him in accusation. All of them dead. One, almost certainly at his hands, although Peggy and the others tried to tell him differently. The other two were victims of the time that had left him untouched. Steve Rogers felt guilty as hell.

Really, what made him so special? Tony had been right; he was a lab rat. A super hero in a bottle. No more special than the average Joe on the street, albeit maybe just a little stronger and faster. He was nothing special, not like the others. Thor was a god, for God's sake. He was born in to great power. Bruce was an unstoppable force and a genius. Tony was… well, he was Tony. Genius, billionaire, not-so-much a playboy anymore, and philanthropist. Even without the suit, he was the face of the Avengers team. He just oozed confidence and charisma. Barton never missed a shot. Natasha was _the_ assassin. He was just a kid from Brooklyn, and one who had gotten extremely lucky.

So how was it fair that he was still alive, when everything and everyone he had known was gone. It was more than just the people, it was the time. The era of Steve Rogers, of Captain America, had passed, and yet he was still there. Because they 'still needed him'. He was not the hero for this age. This age had its own heroes, and Steve wasn't one of them.

The guilt plagued his waking nightmares, made it impossible for him to sleep. So he drew. He filled dozens of sketchpads; Tony and SHIELD always seemed to keep a superabundance of them in his room. He wore his pencils down until they were nothing but charcoal stubs and he was left rubbing his fingers across the page. There were always pencils waiting for him too. He had drawn Peggy's face what seemed like a thousand times. Almost every night, her face was what he saw before closing his eyes, and so it was her face he put to paper. He could remember every detail.

That night, however, it wasn't Peggy's face that he drew. He drew the girl. He sat watching her as she lay on her cot, and his fingers itched with the sudden desire to put her form to paper. He ran for his sketchpad, because he never ignored his artists' impulses. He chose a burnt umber, because charcoal black seemed too cold for the girl whose face didn't yet have enough warmth to it. He drew her as she slept, sketching in the sharp angles of her nose, her jaw, and her collar bones as the jutted out from her shoulders, exposed by hunger. He drew in time to the gentle rise and fall of her breathing, in sync with the beat of the heart monitor on the wall. His ears actually worked to hear the sound of the monitor, because every beep meant that she was still alive, and he could relax in knowing that she was alive.

As he drew, Steve thought, and he realized that he didn't understand why he cared so much for the girl in the medical bay. She was no one to him; someone he had never even met before. But her face was so familiar to him, like a strong case of déjà vu, and Steve realized that he felt drawn to her because she seemed so lost. Just like he was. She looked out of place lying on the cot in the medical bay, so like the cold metal slabs of a morgue. She would be vibrant and full of life; full of color that he couldn't convey with only burnt umber and charcoal.

He had certainly never felt so compelled to protect Peggy, when she was alive. Peggy wasn't the kind of girl who needed protecting; she could protect herself just fine, thank you very much. Peggy had always been so sure of herself; she knew who she was, knew who he was, and kissed him with all of that conviction. But the girl was lost. Or maybe it was Steve who was lost now, looking for a kindred spirit to guide him home. He felt guilty comparing Peggy to the girl, though, and that guilt brought back his nightmares.

So he kept his eyes open, and he drew all throughout the night. He had slept enough in 70 years; he could manage a few hours on guard duty. He guarded over her while she slept, and he watched the girl and he drew her in the deep clay pigmented brown. He imagined her awake, and he drew her as such, looking at him with eyes wide, fearful and confused all at once. He wondered what color her eyes would be; Peggy's eyes had been brown. He drew the girl with Peggy's eyes, but used his eraser to rub away some of the color so they gazed at him, pale brown, almost gray.

It was after drawing this that he looked up from his page - the sun was just rising over the tallest skyscrapers in New York, and his light for drawing had shifted – when he saw a huge pair of hazel eyes staring back at him. Hazel was the first word he could think of to describe them, but they were really a bright, olive brown, flecked with gold and specks of the same burnt umber he had been drawing with. Her eyes were afraid, but almost challenging him in that fear, as if she was daring him to make a move to frighten her. She was looking at him, and Steve's lips twitched into the barest hint of a smile. The eyes softened and looked away, swiftly searching the room around her. She blinked once, and those eyes welled with tears.

She opened her mouth and screamed.

* * *

_**Virtual cookies and mind hugs to anyone who reviews with a good ship name for Steve and Charlize :)**_

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	6. Meet Miss June

_Wow-ee! wow! Have I mentioned before that you guys are fantastic?  
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_Super huge thanks to **Anini Mouse, Kamryn The Wanderer, Autumn Moon Fae **and** Alberta Rose **for suggesting ship-names... Oh yeah, and virtual cookies and hugs :) Also hugs to **EleanorGreen** and **PrincessMnMz** for reviewing! Love you guys so much** :)**_

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Normally on a Saturday, Tony would lie in bed next to Pepper until the sun was high enough in the sky for him to consider it morning, and JARVIS would set off his alarm clock and all but dump him out of bed. Then Tony would grumble and complain about it being too early, and he would reluctantly roll out of bed and slowly change in to his clothes for the day before brewing a strong pot of coffee. Today, however, his alarm clock was beat by the sound of screaming. Tony sat bolt upright, drawing the sheets with him and accidentally pulling them off of a naked Pepper.

"Tony!" she complained groggily. Her copper blonde hair was disheveled and curled with sleep. Tony leapt from the bed, tossing the sheets back at Pepper before beginning a frantic hunt for his pants. Hearing the screams, Pepper sat up too, her eyes wide with concern and fear as she understood Tony's reaction. "Pants are on top of the mini fridge," she offered quickly, and Tony ducked out of the bedroom in to the small kitchenette that adjoined their room.

"Thanks!" he called back over his shoulder as he tugged his rumpled jeans on. The remains of their dinner last night were still sitting in the sink – Tony made a mental note to remind JARVIS to have those washed later. Tony snagged his Black Sabbath t-shirt out from underneath the table and pulled it over his head while he ran back in to the bed room. "Not even 6 am yet, and hell's already broken loose," Tony complained to Pepper. While her eyes remained wide, she smiled at him. "Love you!"

Tony slipped out of the room and made a break for the elevator. No one else was using it, thankfully, and Tony jumped inside. "JARVIS, in the medical bay?" he asked the AI.

"Yes, sir."

Tony swore and pushed the correct button for the medical centre floor. Something classical played through the speakers, and Tony made another mental note to change the elevator music to something less shitty. He was panicking - Steve was probably down there all alone, and they had left him with some screaming bat-shit crazy teenage girl that had been spying on them the night before. Maybe Barton had been right, and she did want something from them. Like their hearts on a silver platter. Wouldn't be the first psycho who held a grudge against the Avengers, Tony mused anxiously. Or maybe… shit, what if she was a fan girl!

The elevator doors slid open, and Tony tumbled out. The elevator next to his opened almost simultaneously, and a very rumpled and frightened Bruce almost collided with Tony. Bruce was still in his clothes from the night before - he'd probably spent all night in the lab. Bruce caught Tony's eye. "Steve," was all he said, and his voice dripped with his concern. Tony nodded, and together they took off for the room where they had left Steve alone with the girl the night before.

The door was locked, and Bruce fumbled desperately at the keypad, typing in his combination. The opaque walls gave nothing away, but the screaming persisted, louder now that they were closer, and accompanied with loud banging noises and the screeching protest of metal as it was ripped to shreds. Bruce growled in frustration, punching the buttons a little harder than was probably necessary. The red light above the key pad flashed green and the door clicked softly open in a way that was highly anticlimactic. Tony thrust the door open and he and Bruce forced themselves inside.

It was chaos. The hinges of the metal cabinets squealed in protest as their doors opened and closed rapidly, straining towards the centre of the room. Wires drifted aimlessly in the air, lashing themselves out at random. One almost caught Tony in the face and he ducked. The ceiling creaked as the titanium reinforcements stretched and popped in on themselves. The medical equipment flashed and beeped erratically as it rattled and shook in its place. Syringes shattered on the floor as they were dropped suddenly from the ceiling. The lights overheard flickered and sparked, raining fire down from the ceiling.

In the middle of it all, the girl was awake and she was screaming. A high-pitched metallic keening was issued inhumanely from her throat and tears streamed down the sides of her face. Steve had two arms wrapped around her from behind; his eyes clenched shut with fear as he held on to her tightly against his chest. "It's okay," he said, cringing a little as the glass chambers of the syringes shattered around him. "You're okay. Calm down."

"Rogers!" Tony exclaimed loudly, and Steve opened his eyes and lifted them away from the girl to take in Tony and Bruce standing wide eyed in the doorway. "What the hell is this shit?!" Tony took a brash step forwards but Steve quickly raised a hand in caution. Tony stopped, staring dumbfounded as Steve held the girl, rocking her gently back and forth and murmuring quietly in her ear. The girl shuddered and Steve held her even tighter.

Slowly, the chaos ceased. The exposed wiring drifted slowly to the floor before falling with a clatter. The cabinets slammed shut, crumpled and deformed, but no longer shaking about. The ceiling stopped moving; it reverted from is convex state back to a flat, flawless surface. The beeping ceased and the heart monitor screen blacked out. The sparking ceased but the lights still flickered, a few off them hung loosely out of their glass encasements. The girl's screaming trailed off to a whimper and she sobbed, the tears from her face falling in earnest now. Through it all, Steve kept her in his arms.

Her shaking subsided and the girl was able to breathe easily once more. "Where am I?" Her voice was soft and musical; it had a definitive alto pitch to it. Her eyes remained wide and fearful, and she cringed back into Steve's arms.

"You're in New York. Stark Tower," Steve said quietly, and he reluctantly loosened his hold on the girl. She still clung to his muscular forearm though, as though it were her last remaining lifeline. Her fingers clutched at him desperately and Steve felt the surge of protectiveness again.

"You're sure?" The girl cast another frightened glance at her surroundings. "You're not lying to me?"

"Now why would we do that?" Tony chose that moment to step forward cautiously, holding his arms out slightly to his sides in a gesture of peace and surrender. Steve actually admired Tony's tact; though awkward with most intimate social interactions, Tony had enough sense to reassure the girl that he was not a threat. The girl looked at him, frowning slightly. Her full lips pursed and her brow furrowed in a way that, to Steve, was impossibly beautiful.

"You're Iron Man," she said. Tony grinned, and Steve practically groaned; the recognition would boost Tony's already over inflated ego for days to come. The girl's frown deepened, as though she were concentrating hard on something. "Why Iron Man?" she asked. "There's no actual iron in your suit. It's a gold-titanium alloy, unless I'm mistaken. Right?" Tony raised his eye brows in surprise and approval.

"I like this one. She knows her elements," he smirked, and the girl shrugged. "What was that magic trick you were pulling a moment ago?" The look of concentration vanished, and her lip quivered with fear again.

"I don't… like…" Her eyes stared hopelessly around the room. Her gaze lingered on the smashed syringes, their needled points still glinting sharp and dangerously under the flickering fluorescent lights. Tony caught on; he understood.

"You don't like hospitals?" She nodded. "It's cool; I'm not really one for hospitals myself. Needles. Yuck," Tony pulled a face and succeeded in making the girl smile, even if it was only the briefest quirk of her lips. Tony glanced sideways at Bruce. "No offense intended, Doc."

The girl stared at Bruce, the 'doctor', and shrunk away from him. Bruce sighed. "I'm not a real medical doctor, I thought we established that." He turned to the girl, still huddled against Steve's muscled chest, still shaking with fear in the midst of the medical bay. "I'm Bruce," he said, as kindly as he possibly could. He adopted the tone of voice that he used with his youngest patients; soft and understanding, non-threatening. She relaxed a little bit. "Let's get you out of here, okay, and some where more comfortable. I'm not a fan of hospitals either."

The girl nodded, biting her lip, and she stepped nimbly down from the cot, away from Steve. Steve felt her absence from his skin and it was accompanied with a sudden emptiness that he didn't understand. But then the girl glanced back at him, holding an ivory skinned hand out for him to take. Steve wrapped his fingers around hers and together they followed Tony and Bruce out of the medical bay and upstairs.

* * *

"Thank you," the girl whispered politely as Pepper set a steaming mug of tea in front of her. She lifted the mug to her cautious lips and took a sip, almost smiling at the sweet, warm scent. The tea came from Bruce's secret stash; he'd offered it because of its calming properties. Pepper looked on kindly.

"I hope that isn't spiked with your weed, Bruce," Tony tsked; shaking a disapproving finger at his science bro. Bruce rolled his eyes, opting to ignore Tony and sit in a large armchair across from the girl. She was sitting on the sofa, wearing an old t-shirt and sweatpants that were Pepper's, hunted from the very depths of her closet full of professional clothes. Steve was sitting on the sofa next to the girl, one arm stretched across the top of the sofa behind her head. He stared at her intently, watching her as she held the warm tea in her hands, took a deep sip and shivered. Pepper was on the girl's other side, eyes wide and concerned. Tony, too hyperactive to sit, bounced up and down as he paced the floor. Director Fury had been called, as well as Agents Barton and Romanoff. Thor was at Jane's apartment, and no one really wanted to interrupt whatever they were doing there.

Pepper glared at Tony, who meekly shut his grinning mouth and ceased his bouncing. Pepper turned back to the girl on the sofa. "Do you feel better now?" The girl nodded; she had relaxed almost as soon as they had left the medical bay, her wide eyes narrowing and settling into an expression that was more awed that afraid.

"You really hate hospitals, don't you?" Tony chuckled. "I mean, you quite literally destroyed mine. How did you do that, any ways?" Pepper let out a noise that may have been a cautionary hiss, but the girl didn't seem to mind.

"It's what I do," she said casually. Without her fear, her alto voice had lost its quiver and taken on a more determined tone, one that dared anyone to try and give her shit. She seemed much more relaxed around them, her speech was polite and quiet, but always blunt and to the point. She held nothing back. "I don't like hospitals. Or labs." She grimaced at Tony and Bruce. "No offense, science bros."

Contrary to being offended, Tony laughed, and even Bruce let out a weak chuckle. "Sad as it is, our work is so often under appreciated by the younger generation," Tony sighed dramatically.

"I'm 25," the girl – woman, rather – protested. "I'm not that much younger." Steve was shocked. She didn't look anywhere close to being an adult; he would place her in her late teens, at the most. She was very petite, frail, even, and her formerly frightened expression had made her look years younger. As had her sleeping face. Of course, seeing her now, awake and fully present, he could see a much older soul in the determined set of her jaw and the haunted stare of her eyes.

"Really?" Tony sounded just as incredulous as Steve felt. "You don't look 25 – and I mean that as a compliment. Are you sure?" The girl frowned, and her lips moved quickly as she calculated in her head.

"I think so," she admitted reluctantly. "What year is it?"

"2013," Pepper informed her. The woman's eyes widened with shock, and her next breath hitched in her throat. She worked her jaw for a moment, opening and closing it in gaping surprise. Steve knew he had felt a kindred spirit; suddenly finding himself in a different time had been just as disconcerting for him. He wished he could comfort her, and assure that it got easier, being someone out of time, but they were surrounded by the watchful stares of his teammates.

"Then yes, I'm 25. My birthday is in… June, I think." Her voice was hesitant as she struggled to recall the most basic facts on herself. Steve clenched his fist angrily; what had happened to this girl?

"Well then, Miss June," Tony smirked. "You clearly know who I am."

"Tony Stark" the girl said in a monotone. "Sometimes Iron Man. Head honcho of Stark Industries, former weapons developer, genius, billionaire, and philanthropist." Her lips twitched in to a small smile. "Self proclaimed playboy, and generally thought to be an egotistical asshole." Steve bit back a laugh, but Pepper was less restrained and she giggled into her hands. Tony paused.

"Ouch. Someone did her homework."

"I can read," the woman grimaced in apology. "Sorry, I should have realized that the tabloids weren't the best reference for information on the Avengers."

"You were researching us?" Bruce questioned, his eyes wary. The woman nodded, unabashed.

"I had to find you. I needed to be informed. I've been a little out of step with the news lately." Her lips twisted into a wry smile. "I've been running here for three days, looking for you guys. I followed three of you to that warehouse…" The woman frowned. "Hawkeye shot me!"

"He does that," Tony shrugged casually. He squatted down to the floor, rocking his weight back onto his heels as he crouched. "We were particularly interested as to how you made it through that attack without any real injuries… you know, apart from knocking yourself out of a fire escape."

The woman grimaced, and her fingers reached up involuntarily to probe the small wound, still open, although now clean, at the back of her head. "It's just a side effect of being… what I am."

"Okay, that was a lame ass explanation. Could you be any more vague?" Tony threw his hand up in protest and he stood, taking out his sudden agitation in his renewed pacing. "What are you, exactly?"

"A freak." There was that wry smile again, twisting her lips humorlessly. Her hazel eyes were dark and angry, and she stared past them all out the window, almost as if she were contemplating the effects of diving through the glass.

"No, you're not," Steve said quietly. It was the first he had spoken in a long while, and he cleared his throat loudly. The woman looked to him in surprise, and Steve elaborated. "There are no freaks here. You're special. Just like Dr. Banner is special," Steve inclined his head towards Bruce. "And like Tony and his arc reactor are special."

"Aw, shucks, Captain, you're making me blush," Tony giggled, tossing a dismissive hand at Steve like a bashful teenage girl. Steve ignored him, his blue eyes staring intently into the woman's bright hazel ones. She blinked at him, haunted eyes full of appreciation.

"Alright then, I'm special," she agreed with a small smile. Her gaze flicked back to the others, settling on Tony. Steve felt a sharp, sudden pang of jealousy before the woman smirked teasingly. "Hey Tony, your fly is undone." The woman flicked a hand towards Tony, and his zipper did itself up.

"Holy shit, that's cool!" Tony gasped, nearly squealing in his sudden excitement. "How do you do that?"

"I'm a genetic experiment," the woman leaned back in her seat. Her head rested comfortably against Steve's arm, but his muscles were taut and angry. She was an experiment. He ground his teeth together, furious at the thought of people standing over her small frame in lab coats, prodding her with needles. No wonder she was so frightened of hospitals. "I was held in a top secret facility somewhere in New Jersey for 12 years. I was the test subject for a race of genetically modified humans with the ability to manipulate the elements."

"And can you?" Bruce was leaning forward in his seat. His expression was horrified, and the slight green light in the back of his eyes betrayed his anger, but he was staying calm, his scientist's curiosity gaining the better of him. "Control the elements, I mean." The woman shrugged.

"Just metal. They magnetized my entire skeletal structure." She raised a hand and a coaster floated towards her from across the room. It adhered itself to her hand by the metal studs in its bottom. "I was also their guinea pig for a few other experiments," she barely repressed her shudder. "There was a variation of the super soldier serum," the woman glanced sideways at Steve, "but it was never particularly effective. I'm stronger than the average person, but that's it."

"How did you get out?" Steve asked in hushed awe. If he had expected a boastful retelling of a daring escape, he was sorely disappointed. The woman flinched and the coaster in her hand fell suddenly to the ground. Tears gathering quickly in the corners of her eyes. Steve immediately regretted his question, and before he could stop himself, his hand was at her back, rubbing it soothingly. The woman glanced back at him smiling, and Steve's face reddened, but he didn't remove his hand. Tony observed all of this with a grin.

"What's your name, sweetheart?" he asked, adding the affectionate moniker to gain a reaction from Steve. The super soldier immediately stiffened, but his hand never ceased the motions.

"Charlize," the woman whispered. "No last name." The second statement was tacked on as an afterthought, but Tony took it in stride.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Charlize Nolastname," Tony grinned, offering his hand. Charlize took it, relishing the contact. "Tony Stark; genius, billionaire, philanthropist, Iron Man, asshole," Tony teased. A real, genuine smile split Charlize's face, and it quite literally dazzled Steve. Charlize laughed; a beautiful harmonious sound that was infectious. Soon Tony was laughing with her, and the others weren't far behind.

"It's nice to meet you too, Tony," Charlize smiled. "And you too, Dr. Banner."

"Bruce," he reminded her kindly, amusement kindled in his brown eyes.

"Bruce," she repeated. "And Pepper, and Steve." Charlize flushed a little bit at Steve's name; he was still rubbing a comforting hand against her back. Steve let his fingers drop, and he drew his hand back into his own lap. He looked up from his lap just long enough to return Charlize's reassuring smile.

"Sir, Director Fury is here to see you. He's waiting in medical," JARVIS's cool accent split the atmosphere in the room. Charlize jumped a little at the sound; Steve recalled reacting in a similar way when he had first met the AI.

"Tony, your walls are talking," Charlize said, shocked. Tony chuckled.

"Say hello, JARVIS."

"Hello, Miss Charlize," the automated butler obliged. "I am JARVIS, the Artificial Intelligence system who runs Tony Starks household." Charlize stared up at the ceiling in astonishment.

"That is so cool."

"Thank you for appreciating my toys," Tony smirked. "JARVIS, tell Fury that we'll be right down."

"Of course, sir."

"Sorry, sweetheart, but it looks like you'll have to go back down to the icky hospitals and labs," Tony grimaced. "Fury will want to run tests on you and debrief you." Charlize sighed, managing to pass as resigned to the idea, but her hands trembled and her knees shook a little as she stood. Bruce hurried forward and caught her with an arm around her shoulders before she could faint or fall over.

"I'll run all the tests myself," he assured her. Charlize nodded. Her gaze fell on Steve.

"Steve, will you come down too?" she asked innocently, a little too innocently in the opinions of the others. Steve blushed furiously and nodded.

"In a minute," he replied, and Charlize looked satisfied. Bruce half led, half carried her out of the sitting room towards the elevator. Pepper stood a moment later and announced that she had urgent matters to attend to at Stark Industries. Steve kept his eyes in his lap as Tony and Pepper said a very quick and very mushy goodbye. Too soon, it was just Tony and Steve left alone in the room, and Steve could feel Tony's gaze on the back of his neck.

"In a minute," Tony mocked him in a sing song voice. Steve sighed, leaning back against the sofa to stare, frustrated, at the ceiling.

"Shut up, Stark."

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_Awww, Steve :) Ain't he just a cutie!  
_

_Love it? Hate it? Reviews are wonderful, and they spread warm fuzzies to the world :)  
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	7. Living With Death

_I love your reviews, guys :)  
_

_Earlier on, someone asked for some Natasha. I found that I couldn't really fit her in while I was still establishing Charlize as a character, but she managed to make an appearance in this chapter.  
To make up for the lack of our favourite deadly female assassin, however, Chapter 9 is practically devoted to Natasha being a badass, so look forward to that ;P  
_

_Okay, so I'll stop talking now. Enjoy ;)_

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Charlize hissed quietly as Bruce drew the needle out of her forearm, filling the glass body of it with her blood. "Sorry," Bruce apologized softly, quickly moving the needle away from Charlize and setting it aside on the metal table where a few other medical instruments lay scattered across the surface. Charlize grimaced a smile, drawing in several deep breaths through her nose to calm herself. "In through your nose, out through your mouth," Bruce suggested in a whispered undertone. "That's what always seems to help me."

Charlize took his suggestion, breathing in deeply through her nose, holding the breath there for a moment before releasing it through pursed lips. Bruce reached behind him to grab an antiseptic swab. He rubbed it across the skin on the inside of her elbow, right near the blue green vein that peeked through her pale skin. On the other side of the room, Director Fury paced impatiently, the heels of his steel soled boots clicking methodically on the tiled floor as he turned about on them. In the corner of the room, Natasha lurked in the shadows, twirling a scalpel around in her fingers, making Charlize feel even more nervous. Clint perched on the open cot beside her, bouncing on the balls of his feet as he crouched. Every so often, he made as if to snatch the scalpel from Natasha's grasp. Every time, she drew it away before he could get his fingers around it. Charlize turned her eyes away from the assassins, focusing instead on Bruce's calming presence as he cleaned and prepped for a needle. She followed his breathing techniques and felt her heart rate subside slightly. "Thank you," she whispered.

Bruce nodded, a small smile gracing his lips. "It gets easier, the more you practice," he admitted. "I used to have to struggle to control my heart rate, but after a few years…" The smile twisted wryly. "Control takes time. But we'll help you out."

"I don't think that's in your place to offer, Dr Banner," Fury decided to speak up from his side of the room. His unobstructed eye was narrowed in scrutiny as he somehow managed to stare down both Bruce and Charlize at the same time. "We still need to determine whether or not Miss Charlize is going to be an asset to the team, as opposed to a threat."

"I can assure you, Director, that I don't mean to be a threat," Charlize said quietly. Fury's only response was to narrow his eye even further. He may have been about to open his mouth to speak, but at that moment, the doors to the medical bay – a different room, this time, as Charlize had destroyed the other one – opened with a pneumatic hiss, and Tony sashayed in.

"At ease, people." Tony saluted the Director sarcastically, a smirk playing at his mouth. Clint and Natasha rolled their eyes simultaneously, and Fury turned his glare onto Tony. Behind the billionaire, Steve sidled into the room meekly, letting the door slide shut behind him before leaning uncomfortably against the door frame. His piercing blue gaze focused on Charlize in the centre of the room.

Bruce chose to ignore the Director's comment, turning back to the small metal table and grabbing a thin needle with a vial filled with clear liquid. "I'm going to give you a tetanus shot now," he warned as he turned back towards Charlize. "I don't know if you've had one before, but we don't want to risk your head or foot getting infected. Just relax." Bruce placed the needle over the swabbed area. Charlize closed her eyes and focused on her breathing again; in through her nose, out through her mouth… She winced slightly as Bruce pulled the needle away. "Done."

Charlize sighed with relief, opening her eyes to meet Steve's staring at her intensely from across the room. She couldn't help it; her face broke into a smile, one that Steve, blushing, quickly returned. Tony applauded slowly, sarcastically. "Well done, sweetheart," he smirked. "Remind me to get you a lollipop later, or something."

"I'll hold you to that," Charlize bantered back, leaning back onto her palms as she supported herself with her arms. Now that the needles were gone and hidden from her view, she relaxed slightly. Seeing the break in her tension, Fury chose that moment to pounce.

"Miss Charlize, before we can reach any sort of agreement on your acceptance into the Avengers Initiative, we need to debrief you on the nature of your captivity and your escape."

"Now?" Steve hadn't spoke since entering the room earlier, but he spoke up now, his tone combative as he turned and squared his posture to Fury's. "Sir," he both asked and commanded in his best Captain's voice, "she's been through a traumatic experience. I think it best that we give her some time to recover." Fury narrowed his eye.

"As much as I admire your determination to save the damsel in distress," Fury's tone leaked subtle sarcasm, and Steve bristled at his choice of words, "I would remind you that you do not give the orders around here, Captain. I do." Steve clenched his hands into fists, working his jaw silently as he struggled not to snipe back at the Director.

"Its okay, Steve," Charlize reassured him. Steve turned his eyes to Charlize, who nodded slightly. Exhaling loudly, Steve released the tension from his limbs and leaned back against the wall, alternating between fixating concerned eyes on Charlize or furious ones at the Director. "I don't mind," Charlize insisted. She glanced over at Bruce, who shrugged.

"As long as you can debrief while I sew." Bruce produced a sterile needle from the mess on the metal table, already threaded with a fine black thread. He knelt on the ground by the end of the cot, and Charlize shifted forward so that her feet dangled slightly over the edge of the cot. She tucked the unharmed foot back underneath her, leaving Bruce to stitch her glass bottle cut closed. He worked quickly, pulling the needle through her skin efficiently so Charlize barely felt a thing as the metal pierced her skin. She kept her eyes on Steve, though, and her focus on her breathing.

"Miss Charlize, you claim to have been held captive for 12 years in a facility in New Jersey," Fury stated, and Charlize nodded.

"I'm pretty sure it was New Jersey." She tried to make her shrug seem nonchalant, but Steve observed her hands twitch nervously, methodically clenching and unclenching her fingers. Fury seemed to notice it too. "I wasn't paying a lot of attention to state lines when I made my way here, but it didn't feel far." Charlize's lips twisted into the approximation of a smile. "I was always horrible at Geography, even before…" her voice trailed away and she grimaced.

"You were captive 12 years, though?" Fury confirmed, and Charlize nodded in affirmation once again. "Do you remember anything of being taken? Anything at all about your captors? Who they were?"

Too quickly, Charlize was shaking her head. "No," she said, but her voice quavered nervously. "Nothing. I don't know who they were, and I don't remember them taking me." Her tone left something to be desired, and everyone in the room could clearly tell that she was lying.

"Charlize," Steve spoke quietly, ignoring Fury's glare as he interrupted the Directors seemingly endless line of questioning, "If you can remember anything about them, if you can tell us who took you, we might be able to stop them." Charlize turned her eyes downwards, shaking her head furiously.

"I don't remember," she lied futilely, and Steve sighed.

"I agree with Captain Rogers," Fury prompted her, and his voice was more gentle than t had been before. "If you can tell us anything useful, I can promise that they will be locked away."

"I can't." Charlize inhaled sharply, and her eyes were full of apology. "Not now. I'm sorry." Fury's lips tightened into a hard line, showing his disappointment, but he nodded anyways. It was silent for a moment; the only movement in the room was Bruce stitching Charlize's wounded foot together with rhythmic motions. Then Fury delved one hand into the inside pocket of his long over coat, and he withdrew a scrap of paper.

"If you could then, please, detail to us the nature of your captivity and escape?" Charlize looked more resigned to answering that question. She cleared her throat slightly before beginning.

"I was subject to several experiments over the last twelve years of my life." She said it casually, but Charlize could barely repress the shudder than ran through her body at the memories accompanying that statement. "The most significant of which sort of magnetized my entire skeleton, and gave me a kind of psychic link to metal. I was kept in a plastic holding cell, the walls a foot thick, to prevent me from escaping or injuring any of the guards." Another shudder, as her mind replayed the scene of blood splattering the walls of her prison, smearing down the sides as it trailed from a dead man's hand.

"You can control metal with your mind, then."

"More or less," Charlize shrugged, struggling for words to explain it. "It's more like… I can feel it. Sense it all around me. I reach out with my mind for it, and when I find it, I can make it do whatever I want. I can simply attract objects to me magnetically, though, if I want to." Charlize twitched her fingers, and the scalpel pulled itself out of Natasha's unsuspecting hands, flying across the room to settle in her grasp. The red haired assassin looked impressed for a moment, but she quickly concealed it under her customary mask of indifference. Clint, however, was another matter entirely.

"Fucking awesome," he breathed, and Tony chuckled.

"That's what I thought, bird brain. Can you imagine how jealous the X-men would be if we had our own Magneto on the team?" Charlize's face twisted into a grimace.

"Magneto?"

"Creepy old guy, weird cloak, ugly ass helmet to rival Loki's," Tony waved a dismissive hand. "Flaps around the mutant community, bending metal and magnetic fields to his will. Kind of a freak show, not a fan."

"Was I supposed to consider that nick name a compliment?" Charlize questioned.

"No. Not really. I think of something better, sweetheart," Tony winked. "That is, if you're sticking around."

"I might be able to determine that, if only everyone would quit interrupting me," Fury kept his voice low and threatening. Tony smiled and waved the Director on. "Miss Charlize, how did you escape?"

"I've been exercising my abilities in secret for all these years," Charlize explained. "Mostly, I just wanted to expand my range until I could reach metal that was outside the walls of my cell. I was more concerned with distance and power than control." Again, she grimaced. "I managed to swipe a keycard from one of the guards, and I was able to find the exit by following the pipes in the walls of the building." No need for her to give them all the gory details, Charlize mused. In fact, she didn't what to ever relive those memories again. Of course, Fury would have none of that.

"Does your escape have anything to do with this?" Fury held out the scrap of paper in his hands, and now they could all see that it was a cutout from a newspaper article. **Four Found Dead at Medical Research Facility in New Jersey**, the headline blazed. Underneath, in much smaller font, it read _'Police suspect a violent protest by local animal rights group'_. Reading the bold headline, Charlize froze, her eyes widening with fear. Steve stepped forward, snatching the article from Fury's hand and skimming it quickly with a practiced eye. Three victims were shot; one of them brutally mutilated…the fourth, somehow killed by his own zipper… Steve glanced up at Charlize, his mouth hanging open.

"Did you do this?" The tears that he could now see leaking from her open eyes were answer enough. Steve glanced down at the article again. Neighbors had heard the gunshots and called the police, but whoever the killer was had escaped long before the authorities arrived… Fury's interest in the girl suddenly made sense to Steve. If he had suspected Charlize's involvement in this incident, no doubt he would have been curious about such a brutal and efficient killer, and one who had so easily escaped custody.

"You have to understand," Charlize choked the words out around her sobs. "The things they did to me… I had to escape. I didn't want to…" The lie caught in her throat. She swallowed and tried again. "I'm not a bad person."

"We suspected that particular facility of unlawful testing on humans for quite some time now," Fury stated in a deep monotone. "When you showed up here, so soon after this incident, it only confirmed my suspicions. We won't be handing you over to the authorities, Miss Charlize, you should know that." Charlize doubled over with relief, her sobs fading into shaky breaths. "However, we will be expected to keep you under our observation until we can be sure that you are not a threat to the rest of society."

"I understand," Charlize nodded, drawing her breath in through her nose again. "Anything you ask, I'll do it."

"I'd like full scans of your system by this afternoon, at the latest." Fury began to turn his pacing in the direction of the door. "We're going to determine the full extent of your capabilities and start your training as soon as we possible can. After some evaluation, and if you behave," Fury paused at the door, turning to look at Charlize over his shoulder. "Maybe we'll revisit the possibility of inviting you into the Initiative." Charlize nodded, almost managing a weak smile, and the doors opened again to allow Fury out. Natasha stood, sliding across the room to where Charlize sat. Her cool eyes met Charlize's, and there was almost some sympathy there.

"We all have red on our ledgers," the assassin said, before prying the scalpel out of Charlize's fingers. Holding the blade in her hand and pointing the dull handle towards the younger girl, Natasha almost smiled. "It'll be nice working with you." She turned and slipped gracefully out of the room. Clint hopped off of the cot as Natasha passed, turning to follow her. Just before exiting, he spun around and gave Charlize thumbs up, mouthing 'Fucking cool!' before the door slid shut on him as well.

Tony sighed, stepping forward to clap a hand on Charlize's shoulder. "Well, sweetheart, the peanut gallery is gone. Guess that means we're moving this party somewhere else." Tony glanced down at Bruce, who was now tying off a small knot in the thread he had finish weaving into Charlize's cut. "Meet up in the medical imaging room in a couple hours?"

"Sure thing," Bruce confirmed, reaching onto the medical table behind him to grope for a pair of scissors. Finding them, he snipped off the excess thread. Bruce let out and almost inaudible groan as he rose to his feet. "I might as well get changed and have a shower before. Probably should give Darcy a call…" Bruce frowned.

"Make sure you give her a call." Tony shuddered. "Remember the last time you didn't check in? She came running into my lab like a crazy woman, brandishing her taser… I still can't figure out how she over rode my security codes."

"She used to date a hacker," Bruce shrugged, a small smile playing at his lips. "He taught her a thing or two, and Darcy likes to share."

"As much as I'd love to hear more stores about you and your lab assistant sharing dirty secrets," Tony grinned, and Bruce rolled his eyes and Tony turned his words into an innuendo, "I have a very concerned and possible pissed off girlfriend that I need to go woo. So, Captain, Doctor," Tony waggled his eyebrows at Charlize. "Magneto… I bid you all adieu." Tony made his exit.

Bruce sighed, setting the scissors and needle back onto the medical table with the rest of the mess. He turned to Charlize, who still hovered on the cot, her shoulders still shaking slightly. "Do you want me to leave you for a minute?" His voice was completely full of understanding, so Charlize nodded. Bruce gave her a small, sad smile. "We all do things we regret," he offered. "That doesn't necessarily mean that we're bad people." Again, Charlize nodded, and Bruce slipped out of the room quietly, although not before sending a very pointed glance towards Steve.

Steve was still stationed by the door, the newspaper article now a crumpled ball of paper and ink in his hand. He eyed Charlize warily, not out of any particular fear of her, but because he was unsure of how to act. Women had never been his strong suit, and standing here, alone in the same room as Charlize for the first time since bringing her into the now destroyed medical bay upstairs, Steve felt completely helpless for what to do. Part of him wanted to go over to her and take her in his arms, comforting her, but another part was scared stiff.

"I'm sorry that they're dead," Charlize said quietly from her seat. Her hazel eyes lifted to meet Steve's. "But I'm not sorry that I killed them. They hurt me, Steve. They stood and watched while I was experimented on in ways that you can't even imagine." Her body shook with tremors. "As far as I'm concerned, they deserved to suffer. But I'm not happy that they're dead."

"I understand," Steve heard himself saying. He stepped across the room lightly, settling himself onto the cot next to her. "Back in the day, all I ever wanted to be was a soldier. They really glorified the war then. I just wanted to do my part." Steve chuckled, remembering how naïve he had been. "No one ever mentioned the bad parts. No one ever told me how easy it would be to kill."

"Killing's easy," Charlize muttered, leaning over slightly so that she found herself pressed against Steve's warm side. "Living with it's the hard part." Steve couldn't agree more, as he tentatively reached an arm around Charlize's thin form and held her close against him. They stayed like that for several hours, silent in each others company, until JARVIS informed them that it was time to make their way to the medical imaging lab, where Bruce, Tony and Director Fury were waiting.

* * *

_I feel deep, guys. Like, the abyss deep._

_Did I mention my love for reviews? Well, then, I love reviews.  
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_*Wink wink* *Nudge nudge*  
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_...  
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_Too subtle?  
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	8. Tin Soldier

_So, as requested, Darcy is in this one... kinda sorta... Okay, not really, but I'm working on it. She's coming._

_Actually, that just goes to show how much this story has grown. Originally, I had a Darcy-centric chapter for Chapter 6... and now it's somewhere around 11...  
_

_WARNING! There is potentially very flawed science ahead. I did my research, and I even talked a little bit to my Bio teacher... but there's not a lot of precedence for people with magnetized metallic skeletons. That being said, I at least tried to make it sound believable..._

_Anyway, without much further ado:  
_

* * *

Steve and Charlize stepped off the elevator together onto the medical imagining floor of Stark tower. The tower itself had well over 200 hundred floors, as far as Charlize could guess, and at least 10 of them were devoted to various medical bays and research labs intended for the sole purpose of patching up the Avengers team after any one of their many missions. Tony waited for them at the end of the short hallway near the adjacent doors; one leading to the medical imaging equipment, the other to the observation room and screens. As they approached, Steve opened his mouth in greeting, only to be stopped as Tony pressed a hushing finger to his lips and pointed silently to the door of the screening room, which was slightly ajar.

"No, Darcy, just leave the notes out on my desk," Bruce's voice could be heard coming from inside the room, and he sounded to be on the phone with someone. "Yes, Darcy, I love your filing system too, but I'm still working on those… I know, but I have no idea how long Fury intends on keeping us here…" There was a pause as someone on the other end of the phone spoke, and Bruce let out a short chuckle of laughter. "Look, I'm not to sure about 'pirate pervert' but I'm pretty sure that Fury isn't going to try to 'grope a feel' on my 'scientist ass'…" Tony snickered quietly at that one, rolling his eyes. "Darcy, just finish whatever you were going to do, then take the day off… Okay… Okay, Darce… Yeah, bye."

Charlize narrowed her eyes in small confusion. "His girlfriend?"

Tony shook his head, still chuckling with laughter. "Sadly, no. I keep telling him to get a move on and just jump her bones already, but he won't do it." At that precise moment, Bruce stepped out of the screening room, placing his phone in his pants pocket with a fond look on his face. The moment he heard Tony's comment, however, the small smile vanished from his face as he turned to glare at the billionaire. Tony smirked and waved, wiggling his fingers at the Doctor. Bruce's frown deepened, and he brushed past Tony, quickly flipping him the finger before pushing into the medical imaging room. Tony laughed louder.

"Don't mind him, sweetheart, he's just suffering from - pent up sexual energy!-" Tony yelled the last few words, and from the medical imaging room came the sounds of someone stumbling over something and consequently cursing.

"Tony," Steve reprimanded him. "That's no way to talk in front of a lady!"

"Heard the lecture before, Cap," Tony shrugged. "Come on, I want front row seats to this shindig." Tony gave Charlize a swift wink before turning and disappearing into the screening room. Steve sighed, shifting his attention to Charlize.

"I'll just be in the room next door, okay?" Steve reassured her. Charlize smiled, quickly grabbing his hand and giving it a squeeze. Steve returned the smile, and when she let go he turned to follow Tony into the room. Charlize breathed in deeply again through her nose, exhaling through her mouth before stepping into the medical imaging room where Bruce had disappeared.

She found the doctor leaning up against a smooth, shining white cot, his hands clenched against the edge, his shoulders heaving as he drew in ragged breaths. With each exhale, a new curse word streamed from his mouth, including some words that Charlize had never heard before. "Are you alright?"

Bruce turned, his eyes wide, but a small smile was twitching at his lips. "Fine. I'm fine." He reached up with a hand and pinched the bridge of his nose just above where his glasses sat. "What Tony said… I mean… Darcy and I… we're not…" Bruce fumbled for words. In the short time she had known him, Charlize could not remember seeing the man so flustered.

"I understand, Bruce," Charlize smiled reassuringly. "Tony exaggerates. You do not have to explain yourself to me."

"Good. I mean, it's not like… Darcy is a very nice girl." The ghost of a smile glanced across his face again. Bruce forcibly pressed his lips into a firm line, but his eyes still shone with the same fondness he had shown before, after calling his assistant. "She's too nice actually. Too good for me. Everyone assumes that we should be together, but I'm just not…"

"Good enough for her," Charlize finished with a frown. She could relate; she felt the same way about Steve. Growing up, Charlize had never been one to believe in love at first sight; she thought it was silly. Her experiences while held captive only reinforced that belief. But it didn't explain the empty feeling in her chest when Steve wasn't nearby, or the way her heart beat sped up slightly when he was. She couldn't love him though, she didn't know him. And even if she did, he couldn't love her. He was Captain America; he was pure. She was a killer.

"Exactly." Bruce met her gaze with his deep brown eyes, swimming beneath the surface with a jade green light. Charlize ducked her head quickly against the scrutiny, and the moment ended when someone rapped on the mirrored glass on the far wall of the room. The mirror was opaque, and Charlize knew that on the other side, Tony, Steve and Fury were watching them. Bruce cleared his throat. "Charlize, if you want to just hop up on this cot, that would be helpful."

Charlize obliged, barely managing to repress her shudder as the cold plastic surface sent a chill that permeated through her borrowed sweatpants. Charlize closed her eyes, and for a moment, she could imagine that she was back in her old cell, locked between plastic walls with nothing to do but sit and read and try to keep her hands from freezing stiff at night. The feeling was the same, and the smell. Labs, hospitals… they all smelled the same; like metal and formaldehyde and bleach. But she was safe now, Charlize reminded herself. She was in the Avengers tower, she was with friends. Steve was just in the other room; he would make sure nothing bad happened to her…

"Are you okay?" Charlize opened her eyes, and Bruce was hovering over her; not too close, but near enough that she could feel the warmth that seemed to radiate off of him. Enough to offset the chill that ran through her at the touch of cold plastic. "We don't have to do this today, if you're not comfortable." Charlize could almost hear Fury grinding his teeth in the other room. "I'll talk to Fury, make him understand-"

"It's okay," Charlize insisted, breathing in deeply through her nose. Bruce was there; she could trust him. Bruce wouldn't let anything bad happen to her. "Just a little nervous. I'm fine, really." Charlize lay down on the cot, swinging her legs up so that she was lying perfectly flat with her head turned towards the fluorescent lights on the ceiling. Bruce frowned, but she heard the sound of his footsteps retreating towards the control booth for the machine that she was about to enter.

"We're using a full body CT scan," Bruce explained from somewhere to Charlize's right. She kept her gaze firmly on the ceiling, concentrating on her breathing, on the soothing sound of Bruce's level voice, on the fact that Steve was watching, just in the other room… Anything but the medical smell in the air around her. "An MRI might have been better, but if your skeletal structure is as magnetized as you say… We'd probably be scraping you out of the machine."

"Reassuring, I'm sure," Charlize grimaced. Bruce chuckled, and there was a tapping sound as he pressed out a sequence on the CT scan. Charlize closed her eyes as the cot beneath her thrummed to life, and there was a whirring noise as the seemingly solid wall at her feet slid back to reveal a smooth white tunnel disappearing what had appeared to be solid wood. Charlize swallowed, and the bed jerked beneath her, sliding forward into the smooth white tunnel. She just caught a glimpse of Bruce's face, sending her a reassuring smile, before she was enclosed in darkness.

* * *

"Director, couldn't we have given her a little more time to recover?" In the other room, Steve was pacing furiously, one hand pressed to his mouth. His carefully combed hair had become disheveled, falling into his eyes and shadowing his worried expression. "She's been through a horrible ordeal, and these tests probably aren't helping."

"I respect your concern for the girl, but it isn't warranted." Fury didn't even turn his gaze towards Steve, instead focusing on the hazy image presented to them through the one way glass looking into the medical imaging room. "Charlize's abilities are promising, but until we can determine her full capabilities, we can't eliminate her as a threat to our nation's security."

"She's a big girl, Cap," Tony drawled from where he stood, leaning casually against one of his glass screens. "I'm sure she'll be fine without you coming in there to sweep her off her feet." Steve frowned, but didn't say anything more. The screen behind Tony's back hummed to life, vibrating with energy as a full scan of Charlize's body and skeleton slowly came into pixilated existence. Tony turned, taking a step back to watch the image. His eyes widened. "Holy shit."

"What?" Steve demanded, striding forward for a better look. Tony ignored him, turning back to the one-way glass wall, on the other side of which Bruce was offering a hand to a somewhat shaky Charlize, helping her to her feet. Tony pressed an intercom button just beneath the glass.

"Bruce, get in here. You're gonna wanna see this."

Steve glanced back in time to see Bruce's slight frown as he took Charlize by the arm and led her out of the medical imaging room. There was a span of a few seconds, and then the door to the screening room opened to allow entrance to the duo. Charlize's eyes searched the room quickly, nodding respectfully to Director Fury before she met Steve's stare with her own. Bruce loosened his grip on her arm and she hurried forward to the Captain's side. "You okay?" he demanded, critically giving her a once over, as he did for the many men who had served under his command before. Charlize nodded.

"I'm fine," she insisted. But he noticed that she took a step closer to his side.

After having let go of Charlize, Bruce headed straight for the screens, crossing the room in time for Tony to meet him there. "What is it?" Bruce asked. Tony leaned forward, extending a hand to point at the screen.

"Her entire skeleton… Just look at it." Bruce squinted, one hand reaching into his pocket to withdraw his glasses. He perched them on his nose, his frown dissolving into a look of amazement.

"Oh."

"Impressive shit," Tony muttered, his eyebrows shooting up into his hairline. "Imagine what procedures they must have done to do this to her."

"I hate to interrupt your little Science Fair," Fury spoke just as Bruce opened his mouth to reply to Tony's awed comment, "But for the rest of us in the room, would you care to explain what has your noses pressed up against the screen."

"Someone grafted her entire skeletal structure with metal," Bruce explained, turning wide eyes towards Charlize. "It's not just a coating either; the bones themselves are almost entirely composed of solid metallic alloys."

"That's impossible," Steve refuted. "It's not like they could have removed her bones one by one and replaced them with a metal skeleton." Tony shook his head.

"Bruce is just telling it like it is, Cap." Tony twitched his face into a frown. "It would have been painful as hell, but somehow, they managed to turn Charlize into a real woman of steel." Tony turned to Charlize, who had been silent through the whole exchange. "You say you don't remember any of this happening to you, Magneto?"

Charlize lowered her head. She did remember, in all honesty. Not exactly what they did to her, but she remembered the pain. "It was like a virus, I think," she murmured quietly. "They injected me with it. Nano-mite technology, or something. It ate away at my bones from the inside, replacing them with metallic alloys…" Charlize twisted her face into a rueful smile and glanced up. "They didn't do it all at once. It took at least 3 years, bone by bone… They dragged it out for a while."

"There is precedent," Bruce mused aloud. "Alloplastic bone grafts are used all the time in joint replacement, but I don't think anything ever on this scale… Perhaps if the nano-mites only targeted the naturally occurring metals in the bone, like calcium… They would have to leave your bone marrow intact, because none of your blood tests showed anemic levels of red blood cells…" Bruce's voice trailed away as he stared down the screen, his brows furrowing into a perplexed line.

"You aren't aware of any of the specifics?" Fury demanded, scowling at Charlize. "Such as the exact nature of these nano-mites you were injected with, for instance? Or the other implications of this technology?" Charlize shook her head.

"I swear, I don't remember much. Those days were a little hazy… I was 14, I think. Maybe a little younger, when they first tried it. They said it was easier before the subject reached full maturity; growth and hormones and all of that." Charlize itched at her arm uncomfortably.

"They would have wanted to introduce the nano-mites during a period of rapid growth and change in the body, so that they might be less likely to invoke an immune response to the foreign particles," Bruce continued absently.

"Well, whatever they did, they were genius about it." Tony whistled, then grimaced as he sent a quick glance at Charlize over his shoulder. "Not that I'm condoning it, or whatever. Despicable stuff, but genius. Complex, too. I've never seen an alloy quite like it… JARVIS, run some specs, will you?"

"Of course, sir."

"Never gonna get used to that," Charlize muttered quietly into her collar, so that only Steve could hear. He grinned; he could remember having the exact same reaction to the AI at first. It took some getting used to, but after a while. JARVIS just seemed like another part of the family; Tony's brilliant, sarcastic, infinitely knowledgeable and fiercely loyal butler. You got used to a lot of weird things when living in Stark Tower; though whether it was a good or a bad thing, Steve had yet to determine.

"Sir, based on the scans alone, I can determine that Miss Charlize's skeletal structure is indeed composed of a metallic compound of a most unconventional nature. The bone matter itself is primarily Titanium and Iridium, with significant amounts of Vibranium and an alloy I am somewhat unfamiliar with, known as Adamantium."

"Adamantium," Tony mused. "Don't the X-Men have that one guy who has adamantium claws?"

"Wolverine?" Fury supplied.

"Yeah, him." Tony frowned. "Met him once at some shindig, somewhere. The guy was an asshole." Bruce coughed lightly into his sleeve, clearly trying to hide his smile. Tony ignored him, pressing on. "Adamantium is supposedly a star-metal, found only in meteorites. Ridiculously impossible to find in its raw form, but if you can process it, it's supposedly indestructible."

"Titanium, Iridium, Adamantium and Vibranium…" Bruce mused aloud. "Genetically engineered to be incredibly strong, lightweight, virtually indestructible and impact resistant…"

"We could probably chuck you off the top floor of the Tower and you would make it out alright," Tony informed Charlize with the traces of a grin appearing on his face. He paused, and the smile twitched into a quick, somewhat panicked grimace. "Or at least, your skeleton would be… Maybe not the rest of you…"

"So, no sky diving without the parachute?" Charlize almost managed a complete smile. "Damn. I was so looking forward to it, too." Tony laughed.

"Only a few hours in my company, and already my sarcasm is making an impression." Tony clapped a hand on Charlize's thin shoulder. "I think I'm going to like working with you, Tin Soldier. We can definitely make this work."

"Tin Soldier… Better than Magneto," Charlize conceded.

"It beats Capsicle," Steve shrugged, but he was smiling.

"Or Big Green." Bruce chimed in.

"Both of those names are entirely appropriate, and you both know it," Tony crossed his arms. "The nickname thing… think of it as an initiation. You're not really an Avenger until we've given you at least one nickname… More, if you Katniss. Also known as Legolas. Also known as Robin Hood. Also known as Hawkass. Also known as-"

"She gets it, Tony," Bruce cut him off. "A lot of nicknames."

"I don't mind," Charlize smiled. And truly, she didn't. Because Tony's less than imaginative moniker identified her as more than a part of his team, it made her a part of their family; weird and dysfunctional as they were. And that was something that Charlize had never truly had before, at least as far back as she could remember… A family. People who would have her back. People who wanted to be with her, even knowing her past, who she was and what she had done, and still wanted to be a part of her future. People who cared enough to give her a silly nickname. "Only if there's something I can call you."

"Sweetheart, I've been given so many names over the years... Most of which I've been forbidden to ever say on National television…" Another laugh from Bruce. "People Magazine calls me the Sexiest Man Alive, how 'bout you use that one?" Charlize laughed, the first real laugh she had ever had in what seemed like ages. It felt good.

"In your dreams, Stark." Charlize chuckled.

"Ouch, last name. I see it's the couch for me, isn't it?" They all laughed again, but Charlize could feel Steve's posture stiffen a little to her left, and she thought she might hear the gentle grinding of his teeth. Any sounds she might have heard, however, were immediately negated by Director Fury's harsh, sudden cough behind them. Charlize turned to face the scowling Director – whether he was scowling at their antics or not, Charlize couldn't tell; it seemed a fairly regular expression for his face.

"Miss Charlize, it seems that you have been through a lot in your past, events that you either cannot or will not share with us." Charlize opened her mouth to protest, but Fury silenced her by raising a black gloved hand. "I respect your right to your privacy, but sooner or later, all secrets will see the light." Was it possible for someone's glare to be even more impressive using only one eye instead of two? "I don't trust you, Miss Charlize-"

"Sir-" Steve protested, but again, Fury waved his hand, cutting him off.

"In fairness, though, I don't much trust anyone. For the time being, you may live with the team, and you may train with them. Perhaps Stark's knowledge of engineering will be of some use to helping you develop control over your powers. As well, you will participate in hand to hand combat lessons with Agent Romanov and strength and agility training with Captain Rogers. Agent Barton will school you in weaponry and marksmanship. You will allow Dr. Banner to perform any and all tests he requires to better understand your origins and abilities." Fury almost smiled as he stretched a hand forward, taking Charlize's in his own. "Welcome to SHIELD."

"Ever the dramatic exit," Tony sighed, impressed, as he watched Director Fury whisk away in a swirl of black leather and combat boots, disappearing out the door of the screening room. "I'd be jealous, if I weren't Tony _fucking_ Stark."

"Must you be so modest, Stark?" Steve frowned disapprovingly at the genius. Stark didn't seem to notice, rubbing his hands together with just as much enthusiasm as he had been before.

"So, training, Tin Soldier. Should be fun," Tony cackled. "I'll have to see what I can throw together in the lab, some sort of testing regime for your abilities. Brucey can go over you scans and help me with that." Tony whistled low. "Man, I don't envy you with Natasha, though. She is one scary Russian."

"Don't exaggerate, Tony," Steve lectured. "Agent Romanov really isn't that bad."

"Not that bad?" Tony raised an eyebrow. "She hands you your ass on a regular basis during fighting sessions. Of our team, only the Hulk even stands a chance against her in a fight, and that's just 'cause the Green Guy can sit on her, or something."

"Gee, thanks," Bruce said dryly.

"You know what I mean," Tony waved a hand absently. "My point is, Tin Soldier here is in for one hell of a time whenever Natasha pulls her aside for a fight. My money's on the scary redhead, even with the indestructible and impact resistant skeleton and magic metal mind abilities."

Charlize was listening, but only out of one ear. She had kind of tuned out of the conversation the moment that Director Fury had taken her hand and said _'Welcome to SHEILD'_. She had done it. She was in. All those years spent in pain, in mind numbing boredom, wanting nothing but revenge, had finally paid off. The pains taken in her escape, the bloodshed, the lives lost, finally had all been for a purpose. She was finally on her way to becoming part of a team, part of a family. She wasn't just another lab accident, or an outcast; she belonged. She had found a group of people just like her – not freaks, but heroes – where she could finally do something great. She could make a difference in the world, and she finally had friends to help her do it.

* * *

_How's my science? _

_... That should totally be written on a bumper sticker, guys!  
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_Anyway, I kinda sorta love reading people's reviews.  
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_And they kinda sorta help me write and update a lot faster...  
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_SO REVIEW!  
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_Please :)  
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	9. Sparring Sessions

_So, finally, BAMF Natasha! Also, Friendly Natasha and Advice-giving Natasha and general Natasha awesomeness._

_Sorry about the wait :P_

* * *

The muzzle of the gun pressed itself firmly to the back of her head, settling in the niche where her neck met the base of her skull. She shuddered, feeling the cold metal on her skin, tickling her sweat soaked hair against her back. Her hands fell forward onto the mat on the floor, her palms bracing themselves against her weight as she leaned forward, trying to distance herself from the gun. "Dead." The Russian declared in a cold, almost bored tone.

Charlize stifled a growl and flattened herself to the mat on the ground in the training room, rolling over onto her side, and then her back, away from the red headed Agent that loomed over her with the gun. She twisted herself up onto her knees again, then to her feet, never allowing her eyes to break contact with Natasha's face. "Damn it."

"Explain to me where you went wrong." Natasha shifted the gun away from its trained gaze on Charlize's body, quickly sliding it into the holster at her waist. She was dressed in her full Agent's uniform – a black cat suit – even thought they were just doing a simple sparring session. It may have been training, but Natasha wasn't going easy on Charlize at all. She barely pulled her punches, and she never, ever missed.

"Umm..." Charlize was at a loss for words. She had been training with the assassin for a week now and she still couldn't make heads or tails of her fighting style. Natasha used something like a mixture the most refined martial arts skills with UFC wrestling... if they were playing by prison rules – she wasn't afraid to take cheap shots if that was what it would take to win. Once or twice, when Charlize had felt she almost had a drop on her, Natasha had suddenly whipped out an unexpected and possibly illegal move that rendered Charlize utterly helpless against her attacks.

Natasha sighed impatiently. "That roll you made to get away from me, that was good. But you twisted your body so that you had your back to me. Never, ever turn your back on your opponent, not even for a second. That's exactly the opportunity they need to do something you can't predict, and you'll end up dead." Natasha said the words as she would any cordial explanation, but her fingers drummed against the barrel of the gun threateningly.

"Don't you think it might be a little more fair if you didn't have the gun?" Charlize griped, taking the time to breath. "I mean, I promised not to use my abilities – just me and you, hand to hand combat. So how is it fair if you can pull out a weapon when I don't have one?"

"The enemy isn't going to play fair," Natasha frowned. "They will always be looking for something, some way to cheat, to gain the upper hand on you. They won't have any qualms about playing dirty to get you where they want you. And they definitely won't wait to pull the trigger."

Charlize sighed, wanting to argue, but she couldn't. Natasha knew what she was talking about. That much Charlize couldn't deny. And even if she didn't fully understand the assassin's words, not having had the same experience, she knew that Natasha had. Natasha knew what it was like to have the bad guys pull a cheap shot that almost cost her life, and she in turn wasn't afraid to do anything that it took to win. Charlize wiped a hand across her face, trying her best to rub the sweat away before it reached her eyes. "Again."

Natasha smiled, but it was deadly, as she stalked forward on light feet. Charlize instinctively raised her hands in a defensive posture – if the enemy made the first move, go on the defensive. But make the move to the offensive as quickly as possible. Natasha paused, and there was a span of a few seconds where neither one of them moved, each waiting for the other to strike. Then, with sudden grace, Natasha lunged forward.

Charlize ducked under Natasha's arm, twisting with her head always turned towards the Russian so that she turned to meet her head on again. Natasha had already turned midflight, and she was waiting to meet Charlize, her arms raised defensively to block as Charlize came in with a swing of her right fist. Natasha caught her hand and pulled, yanking Charlize's feet out from underneath her and sending her onto the mat on her knees. Not willing to fall into the same trap again, Charlize kicked up with her feet – Natasha just barely managed to bend her body back to dodge – and thrust her body up, landing steadily with her feet spread apart.

Natasha grinned, an eerie expression when coupled with her battle-wild hair and tense eyes. "Good." Charlize didn't even nod to acknowledge the compliment; she kept her eyes focused on Natasha's face, looking for any hints in her glances as to predict her next move. A fist came towards her face, and Charlize swung up an arm to block it, grabbing the offending hand and twisting to send Natasha spinning behind her. The two pivoted around each other again, coming to stand on opposite sides. "Very good."

Charlize panted in response, tossing her hair back over her shoulder. Her long mahogany locks had long since fallen free from the black hair tie that was now lying uselessly on the floor somewhere in the training room. Sweat had plastered a few stringy strands to her forehead, where they threatened to slip into her eyes and prevent her ability to see any of Natasha's attacks. It hardly seemed fair – after nearly two hours of sparring, she was tired and she looked it, while Natasha still maintained the image of cool perfection that she had had when she first entered the training room.

Charlize lunged forward, aiming for Natasha's stomach. Her fist had almost connected when, with a sharp pain to her spine, she found herself sprawling flat on the floor. "Another rule-" Natasha's tone was almost smug, "Always keep your head up. Eyes on your opponent's, remember?" Charlize groaned, rolling onto her back and staring up at the ceiling. Natasha's face loomed over hers, haloed by a mane of wild red hair that shone through with fluorescent light. "Get up."

Charlize struggled to her feet, and Natasha offered a helpful hand for Charlize to take. Charlize grabbed it eagerly, and the Russian pulled her up to her feet. Still holding on to Natasha's hand, Charlize paused to catch her breath. She only managed one inhale before Natasha wrenched on her arm, pulling her in close, so close that she could smell sharp mint toothpaste on the assassin's breath and count the miniscule flecks of gold in her dark green eyes. "The enemy never plays fair," Natasha hissed, pushing Charlize back with all of her strength. Charlize stumbled, catching herself on the floor before she could fall and make a complete fool of herself.

At that precise moment, Steve walked through the training room. He was dressed casually in jeans and a plain white t-shirt, with his red, white and blue towel hung over his neck. Over one shoulder he lugged his knapsack with his change of gym clothes; over the other, he half carried, half dragged a new punching bag on its chain. He passed right through the gap between Natasha and Charlize, sending an apologetic glance towards the red head. He turned his head towards Charlize and smiled; his blue eyes encouraging. Charlize's grip on the floor mat faltered, and her hand slid open, dropping her towards the ground. She managed to catch herself, her cheeks flushing red, and she turned her eyes down away from his face. She waited until she heard the thump of the punching bag hitting the floor, followed by the sound of the locker room door swinging closed before she lifted her eyes from the ground again.

Suddenly, Natasha was there, her arms around Charlize's neck, one hand reaching for her gun in Charlize's peripheral vision. Charlize blanched, her reflexes kicking in automatically to somersault herself forward, taking Natasha with her. The two rolled across the training room floor. Charlize squirmed to escape Natasha's tight grip, swinging with her left arm from the shoulder. She felt her fist connect, and allowed herself a brief moment of satisfaction, before Natasha grabbed her by her elbow and shoulder and pulled sharply, twisting her onto her stomach. Charlize's face pressed against the rank gym mat as the Russian clambered onto her back, trapping her arms beneath her knees. The gun was at the base of her neck again, digging into the niche between her vertebrae. "Dead again."

Charlize groaned, flattening herself as much as possible against the floor. The cool mat was soothing against her fevered red skin, and despite the lingering scent of stale body odor that clung to the material, Charlize pressed her cheek eagerly against the cold surface. Natasha swung her legs over her victim, twisting so that she ended up seated on the mat beside her. Charlize rolled onto her back again, staring at the ceiling, watching patterns form in the tiles above. She could feel her heart beating furiously in her throat, and she tried her best to slow down her breathing. The rhythm of her heart became slower, more meditative. Natasha opened her mouth. "Let me guess," Charlize cut her off before she could speak. "Where did I go wrong?"

Natasha smirked. "Yes. If you don't mind."

"I let myself get distracted..." Charlize's voice trailed off. Steve. Typical of him, being able to just walk into a room and make her forget all about the scary Russian attempting to disembowel her. Just like him to waltz in, nonchalantly dressed in one of his classic white tees that clung to his chest almost too perfectly, and to send her one of those adorable little smiles of his, where his eyes sort of twinkled in the light, and his cheeks dimpled cherubically... Charlize shook herself mentally. No way. No way in hell was she thinking those things about Steve, the admittedly cute guy she had only known for a little over a week... though it felt like longer. It felt like she might have known him forever... but she hadn't. There was no such thing as soul mates, or love at first sight - that was a fairy tale, and she was too old for those now.

"Nothing should distract you," Natasha lectured. "Your focus should be solely on your opponent. You can't let anything else break through your focus." Natasha produced a bottle of water from seemingly nowhere, unscrewed the lid and took a long drink. "I would say it's like imagining your vision is a tunnel, with your opponent on the other end, but that isn't quite right. You want to remain focused, but you need to observe your surroundings, too. You need to keep your eyes open for anything that could be of help to you, or a hindrance."

"And how do you propose I do that?" Charlize asked, her tone a lot sharper than it normally would be. She had Steve on her mind, and everything else seemed so unimportant and irritating besides. Instantly, she felt apologetic – Natasha was only helping, in her own way, and it wasn't right of her to lash out because of her confused feelings. Natasha said nothing, sitting in silence, and Charlize took the moment to collect her thoughts. Then:

"You're attracted to him, aren't you?"

"What?" Charlize pushed herself up onto her elbows, spluttering with indignation. Not that Natasha was wrong, but to hear the assassin say those words with so much conviction, before Charlize was sure enough to say them herself... She could feel her face growing warm, only serving to prove Natasha's point.

"It's nothing to be ashamed of. Steve is a very good looking man. It would be unusual for you not to be attracted to him," Natasha reasoned, taking another swig from her water bottle and swallowing. Charlize grimaced.

"Are you?" She asked curiously. "Attracted to Steve, I mean," Charlize blushed.

"Of course," Natasha shrugged. "Physically, he's very appealing. He's attractive to look at, he's fit, and he has very well-developed muscles..." Natasha winked at her mischievously. "He's got a great ass." Charlize laughed along with Natasha. "Mentally, however, emotionally..." Again, Natasha shrugged. "He's not at all my type."

"So, you're saying there's a difference. Between being physically attracted to someone and... You know... being in love with them?" Charlize questioned. It was actually something that had been weighing on her mind for several days, ever since it had occurred to her that her sudden feelings towards Steve may not be entirely platonic or entirely normal for such a new relationship. She didn't have any experience with matters of the heart, however, and had honestly had no idea how to approach the subject with any one of the Avengers' women. Natasha had just afforded her the perfect opportunity.

"Gods, yes!" Natasha exclaimed. "Physical attraction... that's only a small part of it. It's meaningless. It's easy enough to say that you think someone is good-looking, but that doesn't mean you're declaring undying affection. Take myself, for instance, I've never been in love, but I still can admit feeling attraction towards someone."

"You've never been in love?" It seemed almost sad to Charlize. She had thought that everyone wanted love. That everyone wanted to be held, and shown that they were special, and yet Natasha... she certainly was a different kind of person.

"Love has always seemed so childish," Natasha admitted. "Unattainable. Sure, it works for some people, but most of the time, love is silly and impractical. It results in more broken hearts than it does happy endings." Charlize frowned, humming a small noise between her lips. Natasha turned her face towards the younger woman, and something in her eyes softened. "On the other hand, when the love is real?" Natasha's expression almost looked wistful. "There's nothing more beautiful."

"So, what do I do?" Charlize asked quietly. "How do I know if I really love him?"

"You wait," Natasha answered honestly. "You see how things go. Become friends first, then maybe something a little more. Don't try and force it. If it's meant to be, then it will happen."

"Is that what you do with Clint?" The words left Charlize's mouth before she even had time to regret them. They had settled in her mind after a week of watching the easy, sometimes flirtatious and constant relationship between the pair of assassins. The way they seemed to move together, each one shifting to acknowledge the other's presence in a room, and communicating almost as if through their thoughts... They were perfect partners, certainly. But Charlize couldn't help but wonder if maybe they were something more...

Natasha looked almost take aback by the question – the first time that Charlize had ever seen her looking like she had been caught off guard. Then her face rearranged itself into her usual stony look, and there was a long pause before her lips shifted into a small smile. "Perhaps that's for me to know, and for the rest of you to find out." Natasha rose lithely to her feet, twisting the cap back on to her water bottle. She gave Charlize a quick pat on the shoulder. 'You did better today. Same time tomorrow." She left the room as quietly as she entered, leaving Charlize alone on the floor.

"Charlize?" The sound of Steve's voice, followed by the muted thud of the locker room door swinging shut, shook Charlize out of her dazed reverie. She turned herself around, shuffling across the floor of the training room until she was facing Steve as he walked towards her. She had to crane her neck upwards to meet his piercing blue gaze. "Is everything alright?"

Charlize nodded and smiled. She reached up with both hands, twitching her fingers until Steve caught on and took her by the hands. He pulled, easily bringing her up to her feet – perhaps too easily. The extra momentum brought Charlize forward, and Steve caught her against his chest. He mumbled an incoherent apology, his face flushing bright red. Charlize took a step back before he could, but she still kept her hands on his. "It's alright," she insisted. "I'm alright." There was no way he could detect any lie in her voice.

"Good." Unconsciously, Steve was rubbing circles into the backs of Charlize's palms with his thumbs. His hands were warm and calloused against her skin, and Charlize almost didn't dare move for fear that it might spook him and he would stop. He stared down at her with those blue eyes that definitely sparkled when the light hit them, down his nose that, Charlize had just noticed, had a slight hook in it from where it might have been broken once – or twice – before. It was altogether very appealing, and it sent warm shivers running down Charlize's spine. Physical attraction – definite yes. "I was a little worried, when I saw you on the floor like that, and Natasha standing over you..."

"Oh, she totally handed me my ass," Charlize grimaced. "But I'm getting a little bit better. I even managed to land a couple of hits on her today, which to my understanding is no small feat."

"You've been talking to Clint?" Steve guessed, and Charlize nodded, causing him to chuckle. "He beat her once, though he still refuses to tell us how he did it."

"Probably jumped down from the air vents and caught her unsuspecting," Charlize mused aloud, and Steve chuckled. "Who knows, maybe one day I'll beat her too, and then she'll finally declare me good enough to spar with you." Charlize's lips twisted into a challenging smirk, and Steve chuckled again. He pulled his hands out of hers, stepping away towards the punching bag he had left on the floor earlier.

"If that's the case, then I had better start practicing. I wouldn't want to make it too easy for you." Steve winked, before turning towards the punching bag on the ground. He leaned down to pick it up – Natasha was right, he _did _have a fantastic ass - and Charlize found herself staring openly as he went about setting up his workout and warming up. No, she didn't believe in love at first sight. But that didn't mean she couldn't keep looking.

* * *

_So, was it worth it?  
_

_Natasha's is so tricky to write, but I hope I did her justice. Let me know!  
_

_Love it? Hate it? Drop me a line!  
_


	10. A Good Conductor

_Thank you to everyone who reviews, and everyone who takes the time to read this story. You give me a reason to keep on write ;P_

_A warning - There are several awful puns ahead. You have been warned. I take full responsibilty for any facepalms that ensue. _

_Because the opportunity was just too good to pass up!_

* * *

"Quit fiddling with your hair!" Pepper slapped Charlie's hand lightly at it fidgeted with the tail end of her braid. "You're only going to knot it if you keep that up, and then what will have been the point of my spending a good hour brushing it and braiding it back for you?"

"Sorry," Charlize mumbled quietly, dropping her hand quickly as she could. The two of them stood in the room that had become Charlize's – the luxury sized suite, actually - in front on a full length mirror and vanity tucked away in the recesses of the expansive walk in closet. The suite itself was proportionate to the closet – enormous. It came complete with a kitchenette and a bathroom that had an industrial sized shower, not to mention a King sized bed and a flat screen that took up an entire wall. Charlize had protested its extravagance when Tony had offered the room to her, insisting that he'd already done enough for her, and that he didn't need to give her this too, but Tony had shrugged it off with a laugh.

Apparently the other team members had protested in the same way when Tony had first offered them rooms in the tower, as Charlize had learned during her grand tour, and his response had been the same. In fact, Tony had even taken the time to outfit the rooms according to everyone's personal taste – Natasha and Clint had the best views of the city and were adjacent to each other on one floor, whereas Bruce's was decorated with surprising simplicity that suited the doctor. Steve had shown Charlize his room personally – it was directly across the hall from hers – and it had been like a flashback to the 1940's. The room was still modern, of course, but there had been something classic about the soft pastels of the walls and floor and the pinups hanging directly beside the flat screen. That was the moment when Charlize realized that despite the persona Tony put out for them to see, he really did care. The rooms weren't just about showing off his money; he genuinely cared about his teammates' comfort.

"Hmm?" Lost in her thoughts, Charlize had missed Pepper's questions. The strawberry blonde sighed, twisting the elastic bang methodically around the tuft of hair left out of Charlize's long braid.

"I said: What are you so worried about, anyways? It's only Thor you're meeting, and his girlfriend Jane. There's nothing to be worried about."

"Yeah, but..." Charlize almost blushed as she stared at the reflections of herself and Pepper in the mirror. "He's Thor. He's a god, you know? And he could probably crush me with his pinky, never mind the invincible skeleton. What if I make the wrong impression?"

"I wouldn't worry about that," Pepper chuckled, snapping the elastic tight on the end of the braid. Her hand reached across the length of the mirror to pick up the small brush that was resting on the vanity. "The man is like a giant teddy bear. He loves absolutely everyone – you should be more concerned about him hugging you to death." Pepper brushed the end of Charlize's hair with smooth, methodic strokes of the brush.

"This is the first time I'm going to be with all of the Avengers under one roof," Charlize tried again to protest. "I have to get this right, if I'm ever going to be on the team. What if everyone decides they don't want me to join them? I don't have anywhere else to go," Charlize defended her nervous disposition.

"Even if you don't make Fury's cut, we'd never make you leave," Pepper insisted. "You've lived with us for a week now, and already the team loves you." Charlize blushed completely at that statement, and Pepper persisted. "Bruce cares about you, and he already wants to protect you. Clint thinks that you're fantastic, and Natasha has even commented on how much she likes you. And believe me, that's a pretty big deal for her." Pepper smiled, tugging the brush through Charlize's hair one final time. "And Tony... He told me that you're like the kid sister he never had. He adores you."

"I just..." Charlize's voice faltered; she was disarmed by the honesty in Pepper's words and by the other's evaluation of her. "I just want to make a good impression. I want to belong somewhere."

"You do, Charlize." The tall redhead set the brush back down on the vanity before placing a hand on each of Charlize's shoulders. The young woman allowed herself to be tugged around, away from her reflection in the mirror, to stare up at Pepper's sincere gaze. "Never doubt that you belong with us. Not everyone may have said it to your face, but we've grown rather fond of you. Even if you wanted to leave, I don't think you'd be able to. Tony wouldn't allow it, and you've seen how he gets."

"He'd set Dummy, You and Butterfingers on me, wouldn't he?" Despite herself, Charlize was smiling, a smile that Pepper was quick to return.

"Those little guys can be pretty relentless. I don't think you'd have any choice but to stay." Pepper smirked. "I bet Steve would be pretty upset if you tried to leave, too. You wouldn't want to do that to our Captain, now, would you?" Charlize didn't need to look in the mirror to tell that there was a slow blush creeping across her cheeks and down her neck, tingeing her pale skin pink. Pepper just smiled, rubbing her hands down Charlize's arms. "You'll be fine. We'll all be waiting for you in the downstairs lounge, okay?"

Charlize huffed a sigh. "Okay." Pepper's smile was reassuring as she turned and made her way out of the enormous closet. Charlize stood still until she heard the gentle snap of the door closing behind Pepper. The sound almost echoed around the now silent room, filled only with the soft sounds of Charlize's breathing. She glanced sideways at her reflection in the full length mirror. Wide eyes met her gaze, and perfect hair crafted by Pepper's hands. Charlize attempted a smile. The face in the mirror grimaced back at her. Sighing again, she turned and walked slowly away in the direction that Pepper had just left. Her hand rested on the doorknob for a moment longer than was necessary, and she took a deep breath. _Never doubt that you belong with us. _She opened the door and stepped outside.

She rode the elevator in almost complete silence – she would have to talk to Tony about the lame elevator music. Honestly, one would expect ACDC blaring from the elevator speakers in Tony's home, not something resembling the classic jazz version of the Imperial march. The elevator shudder to a slow halt when it reached the Avengers shared recreational floor. "Miss Charlize, the team has taken residence in the dining area. They ask that you would join them there for dinner." The voice of Tony's automated butler cut through the crappy music and Charlize's preoccupied thoughts just as the doors of the elevator slid open.

"Thanks, JARVIS." Charlize exited the elevator. She could tell that the team was in the dining room and adjacent kitchen – she could hear the sounds of laughter coming from that direction; Bruce's quiet chuckle, Clint's loud, darker laugh; even Tony, who snorted loudly when he really got going (not that he'd ever admit to it) and an impressive booming noise resembling thunder that she could only assume was Thor. She could hear Steve too, and while she couldn't hear the words he spoke, she could identify the smile in his voice. Charlize couldn't help feeling relieved; maybe it wouldn't be such a bad meeting after all.

Entering the kitchen, Charlize could guess at the source of their laughter; an enormous blond man was tumbled onto the floor, splinters of broken chair in a pile around him. The others were hysterical at the expression of bewilderment on his face, but even he was laughing good naturedly along with them. Charlize had to smile, and a giggle escaped her lips. Steve glanced up at the sound, and his electrifying blue eyes met hers earnestly. He smiled widely, flashing some teeth, and rose up from his chair to stride towards her. "Hey."

"Hi," Charlize grinned. She gestured at the large blonde man who, still laughing, was rolling to his feet. "Thor?" she guessed. Steve nodded, lifting a hand to take hold of Charlize's arm. The laughter around them petered out to a few sporadic chuckles and Tony struggling to regain his breath.

"Thor, are you alright?" Fun aside, Steve was quickly in concerned Captain mode. He looked relieved when Thor nodded his head, dusting the front of himself off with two huge hands. Bits of wood clung to his flannel shirt thrown over a plain red t-shirt, and as Charlize watched one of the two women sitting at the table that she did not recognize leaned over and began picking the shards of wood out of his clothes.

"He's fine, Steve. It takes more than a broken chair to injure Point break here." Tony ducked as Pepper made to swat at his head from where she stood just behind him. "The only thing wounded is his pride."

"Pride cometh before the fall." The other unknown brunette at the table piped up, leaning back into her chair comfortably. "And Thor fell pretty hard. Right on his ass." She grinned cheekily and winked in the direction of the other woman before turning her body towards Charlize and Steve. "Darcy Lewis, at your service."

"Charlize. At yours." Charlize's lips twitched into a small smile. "You're Bruce's lab assistant, right?"

"Lab assistant, tea purveyor, science wrangler," Darcy listed. "Just about everything he needs me to be. I live to serve. And, you know, to tweet about all the awesome shit that goes down in this tower. Seriously, since moving in I've gained a coupled thousand Twitter followers; it's fantastic."

"... Twitter?"

"Tumblr, too. When I'm not making sure big, green and brainy over here is getting his four food groups into him, mind you. I'm something of a genius with memes. Oh, and kitten gifs! Yeah, and then combine those with Avengers gifs, and you get, like, Lokitty and all that shit. Wish I'd have thought of that one first. Though they never really capture the horns. But, seriously it's sweet to meet you. Did you really get shot by Hot-guy over there? How're you even still standing? Dude never misses. Like a hawk, I guess, but I say Hot-guy because, hell, have you seen the man's arms?_ De_-lish!"

"Darcy..." The other brunette woman tutted at the storm of bubbliness and speech that was Darcy, now standing before a very perplexed looking Charlize. In the background, Clint was looking very pleased with himself and trying not to grin. The tiny brunette who had been picking the wood out of Thor's shirt smiled at Charlize sympathetically. "You'll get used to her." She extended a warm hand, which Charlize took without thought. "I'm Jane Foster."

"Pleasure," Charlize countered, regaining her composure with a brief, albeit pained smile. The hand Steve held enclosed around her arm tightened slightly in reassurance, then loosened just enough that his skin was still directly in contact with her own. From the ground, the enormous blonde man rose to his feet with surprising grace for someone of his side, shaking out his long locks as he did so. "You must be Thor." Charlize dropped Jane's hand to direct her gaze towards the giant.

"My lady, I am most pleased to be at your service." Placing his hand in a fist across his chest, Thor gave a slight bow towards Charlize. She blushed slightly, but enough that Steve took notice. His grip may have tightened slightly once more.

"Call me Charlize." Thor nodded his agreement, and for a moment, an awkward silence hung over the room. Then Darcy, bouncing slightly in her seat, broke it.

"Well, as fun as this whole 'getting to know you' portion of the evening is, can we do it over chow mein? I don't know about you guys, but I was promised high-end Chinese take-out, and damn it, I'm hungry." She slapped an open palm on the table for good measure. Beside her, Bruce sighed and rolled his eyes, but Charlize could see the good humor behind the action.

"You guys bring out another chair for Thor. I'll go get the takeout from the kitchen." Bruce rose to his feet, swinging past the crowd of Avengers and related guests in the general direction of the kitchen. Still grinning like a Cheshire cat, Darcy followed, sashaying rather than manoeuvring past Tony and Pepper. When she reached Clint, she trailed a teasing hand across his chest, which did nothing to eliminate the shit-eating grin that was already on his face.

"Quit smirking, Clint, and go do something useful." Natasha's tone was commanding, but her tone was just a little bit lighter, and more playful. She took a swat at Clint's arm as he moved past her, into the living room to grab a better reinforced chair for Thor. In the meantime, Jane and Thor knelt side by side on the floor together, brushing the once-chair, now resembling a pile of matchsticks, into a distant corner of the room. Every so often their hands would come into contact, and Jane would blush and emit a tiny giggle that did not go unnoticed by the team. Tony made kissy faces at the duo while their backs were turned, as Pepper continued to give him lighthearted smacks to the head. Standing there, observing it all, Charlize felt more at ease than she could ever remember feeling in her life before.

"Charlize?" Blinking, Charlize turned and there Steve stood; eyes wide and open as he held onto her with one hand, and held out a chair for her to sit in with the other. She flashed him a quick smile, reassuring him that everything was alright before she sat, and Steve pushed her chair in closer to the table. His hand left her arm for a moment, while he moved to sit in his own chair, but Charlize felt it's absence. Steve took his seat just as Clint returned to the room, arms full of metal folding chair, which he dropped unceremoniously to the floor next to a now standing Thor.

"My gift to you, Thunder thighs. Try not to break it." Clint's smirk returned as Thor's grateful smile was replaced with a look of confusion.

"Thunder thighs? I do not understand..." Judging by the quick look of reproach and pity dawning on Jane's face, Charlize got the impression that Thor's not understanding something was a regular occurrence.

"Don't worry about it, sweetie," Jane reassured her godly boyfriend with a rub of his shoulder. She then ducked around behind him to glare at Clint. "That wasn't very nice." Clint shrugged, and Jane's scowl deepened.

"What wasn't very nice?" Darcy's voice announced her return from the kitchen, as did the smell of food wafting from the large takeout bags she held in each hand. Behind her, and with much more stealth and quiet, Bruce entered the room, his hands just as laden with Chinese food. Once brief glance at Thor, Clint and Jane's expressions, and Darcy surmised the situation. "Are we insulting Thor using pop culture references that he doesn't understand? Because I thought that was my job."

"Speak to Clint, Kick Ass. We know better than to mess with your pop culture." Tony grinned, snatching a bag of takeout from Darcy's hands. He proceeded to root around inside, smiling triumphantly when he came out with a chicken ball. He popped it into his mouth before Pepper, with her affectionate but disapproving glare, could punish him for it. Darcy, however, looked appeased.

"Damn straight." The rest of the takeout bags, she plucked down on the table, Bruce leaned in behind her to deposit his own share, and as he withdrew, his hands drew gently across Darcy's shoulder. His eyes were kind and warm as he stared down his nose at his tiny brown-haired assistant, who glanced back over her shoulder to reciprocate the look. Charlize could see what Tony meant by the two of them needing to, and Charlize would quote, 'just get over themselves and fuck, already'.

"Did you get any of that lemon chicken stuff?" Clint demanded, choosing to ignore Darcy as he leaned in towards the table, his hand reaching for what he hoped was the chicken. "Because I call dibs. Seriously. Hands off my lemon chicken."

"Right here, Birdy." Tony reached into his own commandeered back and withdrew a carton; he tossed it quickly in Clint's direction. With expert reflexes, the marksman snagged the carton out of the air and opened it eagerly. He made grabbing motions towards the chopsticks and, with a sigh, Natasha complied. Clint dug in with gusto. "Cannibal," Tony murmured under his breath, nosing into his takeout bag again.

"If my hands weren't full, I'd be giving you the finger, Stark," Clint countered just as quickly.

"_Ruffled your feathers_, did I?" Tony smirked, lifting his head as he continued with the terrible puns. "You would be the one to _flip the bird_."

"Really, Iron-ass? You're one to talk," Clint scoffed, rolling his eyes back down towards his food. Tony wasn't about to let it go, however.

"You're right, I'm sorry. That last pun was in real _fowl_ taste wasn't it?" There was an audible groan from all of the company sitting and eating at the table. Charlize just laughed, and Tony sent her an appreciative glance before his eyes settled on Bruce. The scientist appeared to be attempting to make his form as diminutive as possible, in hopes that Tony wouldn't notice him... No such luck. "Come one, science bro," Tony clapped Bruce on the shoulder. "Back me up, here!" Bruce said nothing, and for a moment, everything was quiet. Then Bruce glanced up and back over his should towards Tony, the barest hint of a smile playing at his lips.

"I suppose, Tony, that _toucan _play at this game."

"Yes!" Tony chuckled, and promptly held up a fist for Bruce to bump in the bro-fashion. "And that, my friend, is why we are simply two _birds of a feather_." Bruce returned the fist bump, his sly smirk still present on his face. It grew to the proportions of a real smile when Darcy leaned over and bumped playfully into his shoulder.

"Look at you," she grinned. "You little smartass, talking back to Hawk like that, playing word games with your bro. I should have known that some of my awesome would inevitably rub off on you."

"That's not the only thing he wishes you would rub off on him..." Tony's voice was barely audible, but clearly, Bruce could hear it, judging from the way his entire face coloured bright red, right to the tips of his ears, and the way his eyes flashed green for the briefest of moments. A strangled protest escaped his lips, but it went unnoticed as Darcy burst out laughing. Clearly, she had heard Tony as well, and judging from the way her hand had found the doctor's shoulder, she wasn't altogether opposed to the idea.

"So, Charlize-" Jane quickly swooped in to save Bruce's dignity by throwing the conversation in Charlize's direction. So far, she had been content to sit there beside Steve, observing the team as they interacted with one another, but now she forced herself to focus on the woman speaking to her. Charlize blinked once, slowly, to show that she had acknowledge Jane. "I've heard from Thor who has it from the rest of the team that Fury's made you a sort of probationary Avenger." Charlize shrugged, quickly busting her hands with a pair of chopsticks to hide their sudden shaking. Curse her nerves. "If you don't mind my asking, what is it exactly that you do?"

"She's incredible, Jane!" Tony cut in with excitement before Charlize could even manage to open her mouth to get a word out. His attention, before so focused on humiliating his best friend while simultaneously trying to get him laid by his own lab assistant, had quickly switched focus to excited science mode as he detailed Charlize's... condition, to his fellow scientist. "Her entire skeleton... Well, you would have to see the scans to even begin to comprehend what I'm talking about. She's been grafted with a metallic alloy from head to toe that makes her virtually indestructible."

"Really?" Jane turned interested eyes towards Charlize, who squirmed a little under the scrutiny. Everyone was staring at her now, she could feel their gazes all filled with curiosity; the exceptions being Steve, who only felt like concern, and Natasha. The latter suddenly reached a hand out to briefly touch her fingers to Charlize's shoulder blades. The gesture was support, and it was comfort, but more so than that, it was a reminder to remember her training and keep her cool. Charlize drew in a deep, steady breath and nodded.

"It's true. My entire skeleton is composed primarily of metallic alloys. I'm a human magnet from head to toe. I've also got a sort of psychic link to metal that allows me to manipulate it, on occasion. If I really concentrate." Charlize continued to breathe deeply, and the reassuring pressure on her back increased to a gentle squeeze of her shoulder. Beside her, Steve shifted his body so he sat just a minute bit closer to her. The decreased distance between them was almost as reassuring as Natasha's touch.

"So, like Magneto?" Darcy piped up. Charlize snorted, suppressing a roll of her eyes as she glared up at a vaguely sheepish looking Tony.

"That was my first impression too, Kick Ass. Charlize here prefers to be known as the tin soldier." His comment softened Charlize's glare, but only slightly.

"I never said I wanted to be called that, either."

"Take it or leave it, sweetheart."

Charlize sighed, but relented. Darcy pursed her lips in a musing fashion. "So, essentially, your body could be used like a giant super conductor?" Charlize blinked.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Hear me out, here," Darcy tutted. "Say in a fight, Thor needed to direct his bolts somewhere. Lightning's pretty kickass, but it's wildly unpredictable and nearly impossible to aim. But metal is a famously good conductor. So, in theory, he could use you like one of those lightning rods, and direct his storms of power towards the baddies! Bang, pop, sizzle, and you guys have won."

"What is this... lightning rod, of which you speak?" Thor pouted, his brow furrowed. Jane sighed adoringly, but with slight exasperation at her boyfriend.

"It attracts electricity, Thor. They can be used to direct lightning away from doing harm when its strikes at tall buildings. Darcy is suggesting that you could use Charlize's body to point your lightning." Jane explained in a slow voice, and comprehension dawned on Thor's face. Meanwhile, Clint and Tony glanced at each other and snickered.

"Let it be shown as a sign of my maturity that I am not inserting a dirty joke right there," Tony raised his hand with pride, still laughing. Clint leaned against Natasha for support as he caught his sudden loss of breath.

"And I'm so proud of you, Tony, You've grown up so much." Pepper's blatant sarcasm was laced with affection as she wrapped her arms snugly around Tony's waist.

"I'm not sure how well I like the idea of being used as a lightning rod, good conductor or not," Charlize grimaced. "No offense, Thor. I'm not questioning your aim, or the quality of your lightning."

"Again, see how mature I am!" Tony whispered into Pepper's ear. She simply smiled.

"It works in theory, but if anything when wrong, Charlize would end up like a crispier version of the Energizer bunny," Bruce explained softly to Darcy. She stuck out her tongue, frowning in disgust.

"That is a horrifying mental image, Thank you so much for that, Bruce. Excuse me while I go vomit up this once delicious Chinese food." Bruce's lips quirked into his wry smile, and increasingly common expression for his face. At least, as Charlize had observed, it was common whenever Darcy was around. The lab assistant in question sighed. "A shame. It was a good idea, too. But we don't want our Charlize here turning into a crispy critter. I'll take my brilliant and flawed science elsewhere."

"_Our_ Charlize?"

The words had slipped from Darcy's mouth so quickly and easily that, for a moment, Charlize had a hard time believing that they had ever occurred. She hadn't dreamed of acceptance into the group so quickly; at least, not by people who were still mostly strangers to her. But Darcy nodded, and her expression was more kind than Charlize had seen it before.

"Of course. You're a part of this team now."

"We all look out for each other." Steve's voice was soft beside her, and it spoke of more than just a Captain looking out for his team, or even than a friend looking out for someone he cared about deeply. Charlize's eyes scanned the room, from Steve's honest gaze, Natasha's quiet support, Clint's knowing smirk and Tony's unabashed grin, to Bruce's gentle warmth beside Darcy's bright smile, Thor's earnest puppy dog eyes and Jane's calm, reassuring air. She met Pepper's eyes for just a moment, long enough for the redhead to convey _'I told you so' _with smiling eyes.

A team. Charlize was a part of the team. She was a part of their family, no matter how quirky or odd, or however many bad puns they came up with, A team, even when there was speculation of potentially frying one of them with electricity. Charlize had a family. Huh. How 'bout that?

* * *

_So, you know, it could have been worse._

_Next chapter is CHAPTER 11 ! Does anyone remember what that means (I know I've mentioned it before, and lots of people were exicited...)_

_I'll bake cookies if you do!_

_As usual: Love it? Hate it? Reviews are always welcome!_


	11. Darcy, Meet Hulk

_So, this took a lot longer to update than I had originally thought. I'm sincerely sorry about that, but you know... Life! ... Plus side, it's quite possibly the longest chapter I have ever written for anything, ever. Almost 7,000 words... Sometimes I impress even myself :)_

_But anyways, DARCY LEWIS!_

_You're welcome ;P_

* * *

Darcy Lewis loved sitting in the lab at Stark tower. She loved the pristine whiteness of every surface, sometimes hidden beneath stacks of paper and file folders, or jumbled bits of metal from experiments in progress. She loved the sharp scent of bleach and oil that masked the ashen smell of smoke left over from the last explosion that Tony had caused in the lab. She loved the feeling of intelligence that seemed to permeate the room; just sitting there made her feel smarter. But mostly, she loved the lab because it was where she could always find Dr. Bruce Banner.

Darcy had come to stay at Stark tower shortly after the Chitauri attack on New York City. Dr. Jane Foster had been signed on with SHIELD as a permanent member of their astrophysics research division; Darcy was just along for the ride. She was no real scientist - at least compared to the nerd-herd employed by SHIELD - but they had told her that she was 'uniquely qualified' to work with them. Meaning that she knew way too much, and she was a liability anywhere else. They kept her to keep an eye on her –literally one eye in Fury's case. She'd seen his creepy pirate glare checking out her girls, she knew why he wanted her here. Darcy didn't mind; Stark tower was some pretty sweet digs. While Jane had been assigned her own fancy schmancy lab at SHIELD headquarters, Darcy was appointed assistant to Dr. Banner.

* * *

"_This is your lab, Dr. Foster. We have all the equipment you'll need to continue your research," the man in the long black trench coat and eye-patch narrated in a deep voice as he led them through the laboratory. Jane nodded politely, only the light gleaming in her eyes betraying her excitement as she examined the lab. Darcy was much less impressed; she was determining whether or not she should stare at the SHIELD director's patch or his eye. Both were pretty damn scary, and Darcy's eyes stared intently at the back of his trench coat, one brow raise in calculated bewilderment._

"_I can't thank you enough, Director Fury," Jane said as solemnly as she could muster. She was itching to try the new equipment and run her hands over the smooth, polished surfaces and fiddle with her new machines. Darcy knew Jane well enough to see the almost imperceptible skip in her step. Director Fury remained stony faced as he led the pair towards the back of the lab into a modest office, where a chestnut desk was set with a shiny silver Mac laptop._

"_This will be your be your work station. We took the liberty of downloading your hard-drive onto one of our own secure models," Director Fury explained._

_Darcy looked around, impressively tossing her long dark hair as she did so, but she only saw the one desk sitting solitary in its corner. "Where's my work station?"_

_Director Fury's face gave no expression. "You have not been assigned to work with Dr. Foster," he stated unapologetically. Darcy blinked in her confusion._

"_What?" She was Jane's assistant. That was why she was there. That was the whole reason she was caught up in all this superhero nonsense, for God's sake! Jane was her only friend, the only person who could tolerate all of her bullshit; she had to stay with Jane! She didn't know anyone else at SHIELD, except for Thor, god of Thunder, and he didn't really count. And Director Fury, who reminded her of a perverted Mad-eye Moody. _

"_We have determined that your… particular skill set-," Director Fury hesitated, and Darcy snorted at his barely concealed insult, "-would serve us better if you were to assist our gamma radiation specialist, Dr. Banner."_

_Darcy knew the name Banner – who didn't? He was the Hulk, sometimes. Fury was asking her to give up her position with her closest (and admittedly only) friend to work with a man who had astonishing anger management issues, and who sometimes ran around as an enormous, scary green rage monster? Hell no!_

* * *

Darcy glanced at Bruce, seeing the way his form bent over in his seat, unconsciously leaning forward to squint at his work through his glasses. She had gotten him all wrong. Anger-management aside, he was the gentlest, most mild mannered and respectful guy she had ever met – except for Steve, but he and his fantastic ass were from another century, for God's sake! Bruce always paused before he spoke; you could almost see him tasting the words on his tongue before uttering them, judging how they would be received. Bruce never deliberately angered anyone else, and people treated him the same- albeit for slightly different reasons. He treated Darcy as an equal, even from the first day.

* * *

_Darcy's foot tapped impatiently against the paneled floor of the conference room. Her arms were crossed and her shoulders were tense. Fury sat at the head of the conference tale, as far away from her as the room would allow. He studied her carefully with his good eye, and Darcy regretted wearing the low V-neck t-shirt that day. Maybe he was just studying the door behind her, looking for signs of Dr. Banner approaching, but Darcy thought the first option was more likely. The two of them were waiting for Dr. Banner and he, of course, was late. Darcy huffed her annoyance._

_Fury stood suddenly and Darcy heard a small click as the conference room door opened to admit someone inside. She ducked her head down, staring pointedly at her feet and giving the newcomer a splendid view of the back of her neck. "Sorry I'm late," said a soft, if slightly hoarse voice. Darcy bit back a snort of surprise; she had expected something a little more intimidating from the Hulk. "I got caught up re-examining the data collected from the Tesseract. The energy signature is truly unique, and I'm speculative as to whether or not we might be able to synthesize it."_

"_Not a problem," Fury said, and Darcy held back her derisive laughter. Maybe it wasn't a problem for him, but she had other things to do in her spare time besides brooding and ogling women in their ridiculous skin tight uniforms, or whatever it was that perverted directors did in their free time. "This is Darcy Lewis, your new assistant."_

_A hand appeared in Darcy's field of vision and she took it, lifting her head slowly to see its owner. Dr. Banner was not a tall man, but perhaps that was just the stooped set of his shoulders that made him seem smaller. His clothes were rumpled and unkempt, but it suited him; the look of a man who has far too many intelligent things on his mind to worry about something as mundane as how he dressed. His dark brown locks were ruffled and awry, a sort of moppy style that flopped into his eyes in a way that was surprisingly adorable. His hair was peppered with gray, but he didn't look old enough for it. The salt and pepper hair and the lines around his eyes could easily be attributed to stress, or to the lonely years spent on the run, hiding from the monster inside of him. His eyes were a warm shade of brown, bright and inquisitive as he examined Darcy, but shadowed with pain and controlled anger._

"_It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lewis," he said in his soft tones. His lips were twisted into a wry smile that seemed to never leave his face. It was a smile that belittled a quick and clever mind and spoke of secrets that only Dr. Banner knew. Darcy found herself wanting to talk to this man, if only to watch the entrancing way that his mouth moved and shaped his words. Lips like that could only be sensual, no matter what they were doing… Darcy realized she was staring, and she saw Dr. Banner shift uncomfortably under her gaze. Her cheeks immediately colored with embarrassment. _

"_Darcy, Dr. Banner. Call me Darcy" She flashed him her brightest smile, hoping to make up for her staring. The wry smile deepened, almost reaching Dr. Banner's eyes. Almost, but not quite._

"_In that case, Darcy, you can call me Bruce." His lips really were mesmerizing. Her mind wandered, and she imagined him pressing those lips against her hair, her neck, and her… assets. She didn't realize that she was grinning like a bit of an idiot when Fury cleared his throat in impatience. _

"_Dr. Banner, please escort Miss Lewis to your lab and explain your research to her. I'll send an agent around soon to see how the two of you are settling in. If you'll excuse me," Fury exited, his long black trench coat billowing out behind him like a cape caught in the wind. Darcy raised an eyebrow and Bruce chuckled. He stepped around her to hold the door open._

"_Ladies first," he said. What a gentleman, Darcy thought, nodding appreciatively as she passed. Bruce led her away from the wood paneled hallways of the offices section towards the elevator at the end of the hall. He pushed the button for one floor down. The ride was brief, and the silence between the two of them was uncomfortable, but not entirely awkward. It begged for someone to speak, and Darcy obliged._

"_You know, Br. Ban- I mean Bruce, you're not at all what I was expecting."_

_Bruce's chuckle was not unpleasant. "You were expecting someone 6 foot, muscle-bound and intimidating?" Darcy nodded sheepishly, and the elevator doors dinged open to reveal a long, tiled white hallway. Bruce turned out of the elevator and Darcy followed slightly behind; appreciating her view. "I get that a lot. It's the Other Guy you're thinking of, not me."_

_Darcy instinctively knew that by 'the Other Guy', he meant the Hulk. "I'm sorry about that," she apologized, but Bruce shrugged it off._

"_I'm used to it by now," he chuckled again, only this time it was dark and humorless. Darcy crossed her arms reflexively. It pissed her off that he could be so accepting of the way that people treated him._

"_That doesn't make it okay. No one should have to get used to that. You're still a human being, no matter what other talents you have," Darcy said, purposefully putting a positive spin on Bruce's 'talents'. "So, yeah, I'm sorry that people have their heads up their asses when it comes to you and the other guy. My head up my own, too. Actually, I kind of feel like a bitch right now. So, um, yeah. Sorry."_

_Bruce stared at her with open surprise, his mouth hanging open with shock in place of his usual wry smile. He opened and closed it a few times, and Darcy experienced his caution with words for the first time. Crap. Jane had warned her to keep the 'Darcy-ism's' to a minimum when meeting new people, and now she had broken the poor Doctor. She gave him another moment, lips pursed, to regain his composure, and he did. When he finally spoke it was nothing like what Darcy had been expecting. "I told Fury I didn't want an assistant."_

_Darcy raised an eyebrow, masking her sudden hurt. Fantastic, she had upset him, the man with the adorable mop of hair and the warm eyes and the secret smile. "I can ask to be reassigned, if you feel more comfortable." Bruce's eyes widened, and he shook his head._

"_No, that's not what I meant!" he stammered, and Darcy waited patiently as he took a few deep breaths before continuing. "I told him that it was too dangerous. I didn't want to lose control and hurt somebody… if the other guy came out…" Bruce grimaced, and his eyes flashed with pain at an old memory. "I didn't want someone else tip-toeing around me, flinching every time I get annoyed or frustrated, like I can't control it."_

"_I'm not afraid," Darcy said. It was the first thing she could think of to say, and it was true. Bruce's smile returned, and his eyes were appreciative, if still a little wary._

"_I can see that now. You probably should be. It would be smarter of you if you were."_

"_Meh," Darcy shrugged. "I've never been known for my intelligence. I mean, it's not like I got that internship with Jane because of my incredible brainpower."_

"_How did you get the internship?" Colour her surprised, but did Bruce actually sound interested? Yeah, she totally wasn't going to let that go to her ego._

"_Honestly?" Darcy shrugged. "I was the only applicant. I needed the six credits, and it seemed like a good place to learn."_

"_Ah." Bruce sounded almost understanding – almost. Darcy figured that he could at least understand the part where she had been a struggling college student – he had that sort of vibe around him._

"_Yeah, I know. I totally made sure I didn't sabotage any of her research though, even accidentally. And I was actually pretty handy with her technological junk – I'm good with computers."_

_Bruce raised his eyebrows at her in surprise, a tiny smile playing at his lips. "Are you secretly a nerd, Miss Lewis?"_

"_Geek," she corrected him. "And it's Darcy. I did date a couple of nerds in college, though, and one of them was a hacker who taught me a few... things. He taught me a lot, actually. I could hack SHIELD if I really wanted to... and if I didn't think Fury would chuck me into the Gorge of Eternal Peril if he found out."_

"_He does seem like the type, doesn't he?" Bruce chuckled. "Although I don't know if 'The Old Man from Scene 24' is the best fit for our Director."_

"_Yeah, I can't see it either," Darcy admitted, pleased. It wasn't everyday she met a fellow Python. "I'd call myself a French Taunter, but then what would that make you?" It was an innocent enough question, but for a moment, Bruce's step visibly faltered before he regained his pacing. His face shadowed quickly, falling into a stoic expression._

"_I don't know if I fit in anywhere, particularly."Okay, wow. Angst. Noted: No role-playing games with Bruce Banner. Admittedly, it would make the sex a little less fun (not that she'd already imagined it...), but Bruce had just taking a very sudden and dark turn with her lighthearted train of thought, clearly identifying himself with the villain. Or rather, identifying the Other Guy... Speaking of - _

"_Does it hurt?" Darcy surprised herself by asking the question. "When the Other Guy… shows up, does it hurt?"_

_Bruce's face fell and Darcy regretted asking the moment his surprisingly attractive -and admittedly sexy - smile left his face. "When I transform, it not exactly comfortable. But then he takes over, and it's like relief. Giving in to all of that anger, giving up control, it's the greatest kind of release that there is. It's only after that it hurts…" his voice faltered. Bruce didn't know why he was telling her all of this. He was usually private person, and he didn't reveal his darkest secrets to anyone. There was just something about her expectant expression and openness that made him want to be completely honest with her. She was disarming._

_Darcy made a mental note to kick herself for upsetting Bruce. She wanted desperately to take him into her arms, to run her fingers through that moppy head of hair and tell him everything would be alright. But she couldn't. She could only try to make it better. "Well," she said lightly. "If the Other Guy does show up, I could always just tase his sorry ass." Bruce squinted at her, certain she was joking. Then his lips lifted into a huge smile and he laughed the first real laugh she had heard out of him. Darcy grinned, and proceeded to tell him the story of the time she had tased Thor._

* * *

Several months later, and Darcy and Bruce were still working together. The lab had moved to Stark tower after the remodel – that's what Tony was calling it; really they had had to replace several walls and take the Loki shaped holes out of the floor- and the entire Avengers teams was now living there. Darcy had her own suite, directly across the hall from Bruce, in case the two of them stayed up too late working and needed to escort one another, sleep deprived, to their respective rooms. That happened often; the first rule to working with Dr. Banner was waking up early and going to bed late. The unofficial rule, Darcy's first rule, was to never treat the man like the monster. He had enough assholes in his life already. Even without the late nights, Bruce never did much sleeping. Darcy would hear him well into the wee hours of the morning, pacing the hall between their rooms. Occasionally, sobbing or shouts of fear ripped from his nightmares and travelled through the thin walls into Darcy's room.

Bruce looked even more tired than usual today, his usually kind and alert eyes were shadowed with gray and distant; often Darcy found herself having to repeat something several times before he heard her. He had been shouting in his sleep last night; Bruce had watched as the Hulk tore through anyone he had ever cared about. Betty, Tony, Steve, Clit, Thor, Natasha… Darcy. Bruce did care about Darcy, more than he would admit to even himself. She had wormed her way past his guards, put up to prevent anyone from getting close enough for him to hurt them, and she had stayed there. He liked Darcy's stubborn nature and rapier wit, which she was as quick to use as she was her taser. He found himself caught in the simple perfection of her long chestnut locks and dark eyes. What he liked most of all was that she wasn't afraid of him. Him, or the other guy. But he wouldn't let her get too close, he couldn't. His dreams wouldn't let him.

Darcy sighed loudly and kicked off from the ground in her wheeling chair, sending it rolling and spinning across the room with her in it. She pressed a foot firmly to the ground before she could collide with Bruce. Not that she would have minded, but he might. "Sleep all right, Doc?" she asked, knowing full well that he hadn't.

Bruce shrugged, but his eyes shifted guiltily away from his work. That was answer enough for Darcy. She assumed that he had dreamed about the Hulk again. Bruce's constant worry was that he would lose control and someone – like Darcy – could get hurt. Darcy thought his concern was sweet, but it was unnecessary. In the year she had known him, she had yet to meet his giant, green alter-ego. The other guy made a few appearances in alien battles on TV, but Bruce had never once lost control in Darcy's presence.

Bruce could feel the accusation in Darcy's eyes as he lied to her, and he felt horribly ashamed because of it. Darcy had a way of doing that him- making him feel ashamed of every one of his short-comings. "Call up the file on arc reactor technology for me, please," he said, desperate to change the oncoming subject.

"Sure," Darcy reached around him and tapped a few keys. Bruce could feel the warmth of her body pressing on his back, and his heart rate sped in anticipation. The monster in his head yawned eagerly, but Bruce forced himself to remain calm; inhaling slowly through his mouth and pinching the bridge of his nose with a free hand.

Darcy shifted slightly away, her warmth was still present but she was no longer pressed against his back. He felt relief and disappointment. Blue prints and 3-D models of Tony's arc reactor popped up on the computer screen, and Bruce gratefully turned his attention towards them. "Thanks."

"You're welcome, Darcy grinned. She had seen his awareness at her presence, she had heard his sharp intake of breath when her body pressed up against him, and it thrilled her. Feeling very naughty, she pressed her girl's against his back and rested her chin on Bruce's shoulder, breathing softly against his neck. "What do you want with Tony's arc reactor?"

Bruce gasped for breath, and he pulled his chair forward, pressing his knees uncomfortably against the edge of his desk. "If I can duplicate the Tesseract's energy, I need to contain it," he explained quickly. He was finding it very hard to concentrate with Darcy so close to him. "The arc reactor may serve as a suitable container." Another thing Darcy liked about Bruce, he made the science easy for her to understand. He didn't try to wow' her with big words and complicated equations. Unlike Tony Stark. Tony tried to belittle her and everyone else with his science talk. Bruce said that making people feel small was just Tony's way. Darcy said that Tony was compensating for something. Just check out the size of his tower.

"Does Tony know that you're borrowing his technology?" Darcy scootched backwards in her chair. Thrills aide, she wanted Bruce to be comfortable in his own lab. She could continue that scene in her head later... alone. Sigh.

"I mentioned it to him and he said it was all right." Bruce grinned one of his rare real smiles. "He was drunk at the time, so I doubt he remembers."

"He's always drunk." The pair of them shared a laugh at Tony's expense. "Want me to go find him and wrangle him back into the labs? I think he was working with Charlize in the training room today."

"I'll go with you," Bruce said, and Darcy's heart fluttered. Just a little bit. "I need to stretch my legs."

* * *

The training room took up the entirety of one of the sub-basement floors of Stark tower. It was enormous, large enough for a full sized archery and shooting ranger, a boxing ring, and an impressive weight room. Darcy and Bruce stepped off the elevator into a small hallway next to the staircase. Behind the large, heavy metal doors to the training room, Darcy could hear soft grunts of pain and exhaustion, as well as Clint's occasional cry of 'Fuck yeah, that's what I'm talking about!"

The scene inside the room was one of organized chaos. Steve was at the punching bags, as usual, his fists darting in and around impossibly fast as he pummeled the bag. The ground in front of him was littered with debris and scraps of fabric from the last 3 bags he had punched through. Natasha was in the ring with an unknown SHIELD agent (seriously, they all looked the same!) in the middle of a sparring session. Natasha was clearly winning. She ducked and dodged and twisted lithely in her cat suit; the agent couldn't land a hit. An arrow whizzed by overhead and planted itself firmly in a poster of Loki that had been tacked to the far wall. Darcy's eyes followed its trajectory and found Clint hanging upside-down by his knees from the overhead rafters, reaching for another arrow with a look of grim satisfaction. Thor was swinging Mjolnir around wildly, taking out multiple scarecrow-like dummies while he bragged about his prowess in battle in a loud voice. Jane sat of the nearest bench to him, her mouth twisted in to a proud and amused smile as she admired her godly boyfriend. Darcy caught her eye and winked.

In the centre of the room, in one of the only clear and available spaces, Charlize and Tony stood in a rather heated discussion. Tony was rather animated, gesturing with his hands, the wild light in his eyes that preceded an experiment. The pale blue of his arc reactor shone through his black ACDC concert t-shirt – signed, no doubt. Charlize's full pouty lips had abandoned their commonplace frown of determination, replaced with a cocky grin; clearly, she was enjoying herself. She tossed her long curls away from her face in a self assured fashion.

"We're gonna see how much you can take, alright Magneto?" Charlize laughed at the still rather unimaginative and annoying moniker. Tony flicked his eyes around the room, searching for a suitable piece of metal. His eyes fell on the bench press. "There. Lift that." Charlize laughed.

"Bit of a safe bet for you, Tony boy," she taunted. Oh yeah, she was definitely enjoying this. Since dinner with the team a week or two ago, Charlize had grown more confident, eventually becoming comfortable with joking and even taunting the rest of the team. Particularly Tony with whom she had some kind of sibling rivalry thing going. "I think I can handle a little more than that."

Tony raised a brow; he knew when he was being challenged. "Do you really?"

"I do." Charlize seemed confident.

"You think you could lift all of this, Tony gestured to the room around him, "just using your psychic metal powers?"

"Won't even break a sweat."

"Care to bet on that, Tin Soldier?"

"You bet your shiny metal behind I do."

Tony crossed his arms apprehensively. "All right then. Let's do it!" The last sentence was shouted and the other Avengers ceased their training. Steve caught his punching bag with an arm and held it still, staring at Charlize with unabashed concern. Thor stopped swing Mjolnir and dropped it to the ground with a thud. Natasha's leg lowered from above her head, and the agent she had been sparring with ran off to find the nearest First Aid kit to treat the profuse bleeding of his nose. Clint did a flip off the rafters, landing next to Natasha without so much as a stumble, to Darcy's eternal jealous. It was no fair that Clint should be so hot and so damned graceful; it was unnatural. Of course, she lived with a god and a 90-something year old who looked to be in his twenties, not to mention that she had a crush on a man who defied the Law of Conservation of Mass, so she really wasn't one to talk about unnatural. Darcy huffed, focusing on the spectacle in the centre of the room. Bruce chuckled in anticipation and widened his stance where he stood next to Darcy in front of the doors.

Charlize took a deep breath in and slowly let it out. She turned in on her own mind again, closing her eyes as she searched for her hidden sixth sense. She could feel all of the metal in the room around her, thrumming with energy. Open palmed, her hands stretched out from her sides and raised, almost as if on their own, until they were level with her shoulders. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

It started with the weights. An unseen force pulled them towards Charlize and they shivered on the ground before ascending, hovering above the ground at the height of Charlize's knees. She took another deep breath, and bench presses and other equipment shuddered into the air. Charlize smiled, eyes still shut, and for the first time in the time that Darcy had known her, the smile was genuine. Her expression was elated.

"Impressive," Tony grumbled reluctantly, defeated. "Alright, Charlize, you win. Take it down." There was an expectant pause, but nothing happened. "Charlize?" Tony took a brash stride towards Charlize, but stopped in his tracks as she hissed at him, a metallic grating that she spat between her teeth.

The smile slid off of Charlize's face, her lips tightened into a hard line and her limbs tremble. She gasped in pain, and her eyes flew open. They were clouded with silver and stared with blank horror at nothing. The weights around her started spinning uncontrollably on an invisible axis.

"Charlize!" Steve cried, and he ran towards her, ducking underneath the weight that spun and hurtled towards where his head had been moments ago. There was a screeching groan as the ceiling rafters slowly bent towards Charlize's shivering form, and the heavy metal doors swung open and shut violently on their hinges behind Darcy. Darcy heard a soft grunt of pain, but her eyes were set on Steve as he approached Charlize and wrapped his arms around her trembling and unresponsive frame. "Come on, Charlize. You're okay. It's okay," Steve whispered, pressing his face down to the top of Charlize's head.

Charlize groaned, teeth clenching as her eyes cleared to their normal hazel and she shivered in Steve's grasp. The weights and equipment crashed to the floor, the doors shut and the rafters ceased their moaning. Charlize shrank into Steve's embrace as she stared with wide eyed horror. "Oh God," she whispered. "Is everyone okay?"

Darcy's eyes did a quick sweep of the room; Jane looked a bit shaken but Thor was comforting her – ick. Clint and Natasha looked simultaneously interested and unconcerned in the way that only secret agents could. Tony's expression was calculative; his lips moved silently and furiously as he devised some new experiment based on these developments. Steve was still holding Charlize, whispering comforts to her. Darcy felt fine. She turned smiling towards Bruce, and her smile faltered. "Oh shit."

Bruce was kneeling on the ground, hunched over on himself with one hand pressed firmly to the back of his neck, and he whimpered in obvious pain. A strip of pale red peeked from above his shirt collar, an exact match to the heavy metal doors that had been thrashing about wildly only moments before. His breathing was short and rapid, and his entire body trembled with pain and rage as he struggled to keep his other half under control.

Tony was kneeling at Bruce's side in a matter of seconds. "Hey, Bruce, calm down, alright?" Tony's tone was soothing but there was an edge of panic to it. "Deep breaths, buddy, come on. Lots of breakable things in here." Darcy saw that Natasha had slipped into a defensive stance and Clint was unconsciously reaching back into his quiver for another arrow. Thor had hoisted Mjolnir again and he held it ready in front of him as he moved to stand protectively in front of Jane. Steve had pushed Charlize behind him, his instinct to protect the dame in distress taking over, and he wished that he hadn't left his shield in his room that morning. Tony glanced up at Darcy, who stood dumbfounded next to Bruce. "You need to go."

Darcy shook her head. "No."

"Darcy," Bruce growled, and she almost flinched. Gone were the gentle tones that she was so used to, replaced with a deep, animalistic growl. "Go." It was a plea and a command all at once. Darcy shook her head.

"No. I'm not going anywhere."

"Damn it, Darcy!" Bruce's snarl was feral, and he smashed a fist into the floor, leaving a small crater in the tiles. Darcy knelt down beside the trembling Bruce and used a hand to push is adorable mop of hair out of his face. He lifted his head, panting furiously, and the warm brown eyes that she loved so much were an angry shade of green.

"I'll be fine," she assured him, sounding much calmer than she felt. "I've got my taser with me." If Bruce could have laughed through the haze of anger covering him, he would have. "It's hurting you to hold it back. Just let go." She smiled reassuringly, and the tense set and trembling of Bruce's shoulders diminished with a reluctant glare in Darcy's direction as he willingly gave control over to the monster. Bruce's skin shifted to green and he swelled in size, his bulging muscles tearing through the fabric of his dress shirt. The Hulk stood and roared loud enough to send a pounding through Darcy's ear drums.

"Whoa, easy there, big fella," Tony soothed, standing up and backing away from the enormous green beast. His hands were held up in surrender. "Now's really not the time or place to get angry and start smashing shit up... Ah, shit, there you go." The Hulk ignored him, turning around to face the offending door. He grasped the door between his meaty hands and pulled, ripping it off of its reinforced hinges. With a menacing roar, he threw it across the length of the room so it sailed over everyone's heads, smashing into the poster of Loki and leaving a dent across the horns of his stupid helmet. The Hulk grunted in satisfaction that the door was gone, and he turned his beady eyes towards the rest of the team.

Clint instantly notched another arrow, pointing it uselessly towards the Hulk's chest. Hulk didn't like that. Tiny arrow-man was afraid; they were all afraid. That made Hulk angry. He growled and stepped towards the Avengers team.

"Hey, where you going, buddy?" Hulk stopped and looked down at the little brown haired female that stood in his way. Her hands were crossed firmly against her chest and she stared up at the Hulk without fear. She wasn't afraid of Hulk. She was in Hulk's way. Hulk roared angrily, his breath blowing Darcy's hair back from her face. She laughed, and Hulk was confused.

"Why not scared of Hulk?" he asked in a gravelly voice.

"Because, big guy, I know you don't want to hurt me. You don't want to hurt me, right?" Darcy smiled in a way that she hoped was kind. Her heart was pounding in her chest, but it wasn't out of fear.

"No."

"See, I knew it! You're just angry. Why are you angry?" Darcy asked calmly.

"Door hurt."

Darcy almost chuckled. Hulk was about as blunt and abrasive as Bruce could sometimes be, if a little less articulate than the Doctor. Which made some sense, as they were kind of the same person. "I can see that. My name's Darcy."

The name was familiar to Hulk. Puny scientist man in Hulk's head knew the name "Bruce know Darcy."

"He does. I'm Bruce's friend."

"Hulk know. Bruce think Hulk hurt Darcy."

"Well, Bruce isn't always right, is he, big fella?" Hulk shook his head. "I know you won't hurt me. What else does Bruce think?"

"Bruce like Darcy." Beside her, Tony let out a coughing wheeze that might have been his attempt at holding back a snicker of laughter. He sounded like someone had just kicked him in the testicles. Darcy ignored him.

"I like Bruce too. Could you let Bruce come back now?"

Hulk shook his head. "Hulk not want to," he growled. His fists clenched again, and every Avenger in the room took an involuntary step back. Not Darcy, though.

Darcy just raised her hands and smiled. "Okay, big guy, you don't have to. Let's just talk." Hulk nodded. Hulk wanted to talk to Darcy. Darcy was nice to Hulk. Darcy wasn't scared of Hulk. Hulk saw arrow-man put down his bow, and red-spider woman relax. In the middle of the room, however, shield-captain and hammer-god stayed tense, standing in front of other brown haired females.

"Hammer-god and Shield-captain afraid of Hulk."

Darcy glanced over her shoulder and sent a pointed glance towards Steve and Thor. The two of them looked wary, but shifted guiltily to the side so that Charlize and Jane were standing where Hulk could see them. "See, they're not afraid. You know Steve and Thor. They're on your team."

Hulk knew the team, and Bruce knew their names. "Steve and Thor," he repeated slowly.

Darcy grinned. "Exactly. And that's Clint and Natasha, or else Hawkeye and Black Widow," Darcy said, gesturing towards them. "You already know Tony." Tony smirked and gave a little wave to the green monster that had saved his life on numerous occasions.

"Hulk know Metal Tony. Tony fall from sky, Hulk catch."

"He seems to fall a lot, doesn't he? Not very smart of him, is it?" Hulk nodded, and Tony snorted in quiet protest. Darcy would pay for that later, and she knew it. Her shampoo would subtly be replaced with bleach, or her coffee would inexplicably be decaf for a month. Darcy pointed towards the two brown-haired females. "Jane and Charlize are new to the team. They're your friends."

"Hulk have friends?" He snorted in disbelief. Yeah, Bruce was definitely somewhere in this hulking mass of muscle. No one else could pull off self-deprecating so convincingly, in Darcy's rather humble and generally awesome opinion.

"Everyone has friends, big guy. Yours just have more mental issues than most." Hulk was confused again, although from what Darcy could tell, it didn't take much to confuse him. She tried again. "We're Bruce's friends, too. Could you let Bruce come back?" Hulk pouted, and the set of his lips reminded Darcy of the way Bruce frowned when she pulled him away from one of his experiments in the middle of the night. Hulk nodded reluctantly. Struck by a sudden inspiration, Darcy stepped forward and wrapped her arms around Hulk's waist; because that was the highest she could reach. Her arms couldn't even encircle half of his girth. Hulk felt strange; no one had ever really touched Hulk willingly before. Hulk felt… happy?

Darcy could feel the Hulk growing smaller in her arms and tightened her grip as he shrunk. The rough, clammy green skin was replaced with flesh that grew gradually warmer and softer, and a pair of hands rested comfortably around her shoulders. Darcy glanced up and recognized Bruce's face covered with a sheen of sweat, his eyes tightly closed as he shivered against her. He was also entirely naked. Oh God. She was getting a naked hug from Bruce! A sweaty, naked hug!

"This happened in a dream once, only it was far less awkward," she murmured quietly to herself.

Bruce opened his eyes, the warm brown looking fearfully into Darcy's. "What happened?" he demanded shakily. She noticed happily that he did not release his grip on her. Are you okay?"

"I'm fine," she assured him, and Bruce sighed with relief. Then he glanced down.

"I'm naked."

"I've noticed," Darcy grinned mischievously. "No complaints here." Bruce's cheeks turned a shade of red that, coupled with his former hue, would have reminded Darcy of Christmas. Tony wolf-whistled once and tossed a pair of sweatpants that smacked Bruce in the back of the head. Bruce pulled them on gratefully, much to Darcy's disappointment. She like Bruce clothed. She liked him even better naked.

Bruce glanced apologetically at everyone else in the room. "Did I hurt anyone?" His body still shivered with exhaustion, and his legs trembled with the effort of standing.

"Just Loki," Tony shrugged. "It's a stupid-ass helmet anyways. But you do owe me a new door." Bruce flinched, and Darcy wrapped an arm protectively around his bare shoulder.

"Shut up, Tony. C'mon Bruce, you can get some rest in your room."

"Taking Hulk up to your room for some alone time, right Darcy?" Tony shouted. Without looking back, Darcy flipped him her middle finger. The elevator door dinged shut, cutting off any other smart ass comments from Tony. Bruce turned to Darcy, still with her arm wrapped around him.

"What happened?"

"Nothing, really. Big guy threw a door, smashed a poster… nothing big. He and I had a little chat."

Bruce looked wary. "A chat about what?"

"Doors, anger management issues, friends…" Darcy shrugged as she listed. "Hey! Did you know that the other guy has a real insight on the inner workings of your mind? Like he knows everything that you're thinking?"

Bruce shuddered, and pinched the bridge of his nose between his fingers. _Shit. _"What did he tell you?"

"Nothing," Darcy shrugged. It was silent for a few moments, before Darcy's face split into a wide grin. Despite his inner turmoil and him hating the other guy in his head, Bruce couldn't help but notice how incredibly beautiful she looked.

"What is it?"

"So," she drew out the 'o' for longer than she needed to, her eyes sparkling. _Shit shit shit. _Had he mentioned how much he hated Hulk right then? His suspicions were confirmed when Darcy opened her smug and admittedly perfect lips.

"You like me, huh?"

Bruce groaned.

* * *

_Oh, you two! Just get married already! Stop being so perfect for eachother :P_

_So, as per usual:_

_Love it? Hate it? Review and let me know!_

_I'll try and be quicker with the next chapter :P_


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